


The Road to Us

by spelledink



Series: A Love's Journey [3]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 23:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 27,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15302409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelledink/pseuds/spelledink
Summary: In Paris, Andrea declares her love to Miranda. She gets blacklisted. Miranda realizes her mistake and tries to make amends.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This story features a Miranda who realizes her feelings for Andrea sooner, and is more willing to take chances. It also features original characters, and a romance for Emily.

**_The Road to Us_ **

**A Devil Wears Prada fanfiction**

**This story is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.**

**_ The Devil Wears Prada _ ** **is the property of Lauren Weisberger and 20 th Century Fox.**

 

 

Miranda Priestly sat in her room at the Hôtel Plaza Athénée. A glass of Glenmorangie single malt scotch clutched in her hand. The liquor burning down her throat as she sat, clad in her Versace bathrobe, staring absently at the papers in her other hand. A fax. Divorce papers from Stephen.

Oh, he had not been the best husband, or the most faithful. But the rejection still stung. Not that the long line of secretaries, paralegals, and other young women hopping in and out of Stephen’s bed wasn’t bad enough. Another failure that Miranda’s detractors would no doubt take advantage of. Page Six would certainly trumpet the news of this latest embarrassment. Irving Ravitz would certainly be pleased, the rodent.

But the worst part was how the girls would inevitably react. Another broken marriage. More proof of their mother’s inability to love something more than Runway. Caroline and Cassidy already spent more and more time with their school friends and father. Their phone calls and conversations increasingly detached. An obligation, a chore.

It was frustrating to see them drift away. All she wanted was to provide for them. Not just money or school or clothes. But an example. An example of how far a woman might go, on her own drive and initiative. Yet all they saw were the failures. The broken relationships, the long hours, the missed soccer games and piano recitals. Miranda sighed.

_Initiative._

That brought to mind her second assistant. Andrea. Long brown hair, and chocolate eyes. A warmth in those eyes that could be disarming. Yet fire there, too, when she faced some obstacle. Like the Harry Potter manuscript. Miranda chuckled. My, how Andrea had smirked when she’d delivered the unpublished book.

The girl, no the woman, was perceptive. Unlike the clackers, or even Emily, she seemed to see beyond the façade of the Dragon, beyond Miranda’s protective walls. An idea both exciting and frightening to Miranda. Those walls, those carefully constructed ramparts, were the only thing holding her together now.

Unlike so many others at Runway, Andrea seemed to truly like Miranda, even care about her. Carefully guarding Miranda’s schedule, so she had time with her children. Always greeting her with a warm smile. The smile that brought heat to Miranda’s face, and made her heart race. Her morning coffee delivered with a brief touch of fingers that thrilled and alarmed Miranda.

_What am I doing?_

_You’d think I was falling for Andrea._

_Haven’t  I?_

Miranda frowned. It’s true, she enjoyed the woman’s company, her warmth and thoughtfulness. And yes, she was beautiful. There was no denying Miranda looked at her and liked what she saw. What she wished she could touch. The frumpy Ohio duckling had become a swan princess, thanks to Nigel.

_But it could never work._

The woman just exuded such natural…kindness. Obviously a midwestern aberration. Kindness… a luxury that Miranda could ill afford now. Especially now, with the current crisis. Stephen leaving. Irv and Jacqueline moving against her. And Nigel. Alas, poor Nigel. She would have to hurt him deeply to keep Runway hers.

Miranda gulped down the rest of her scotch, reaching to pour another. She looked at the diamond engagement ring and wedding band on her finger. Clenching and unclenching her fist.  She stripped them off her hand, dropping them to clatter on the silver bar try.

No, now was no time to consider her feelings for her assistant. The woman whose warm eyes and generous curves starred too often in her heated thoughts and dreams.

Miranda poured another drink, determined to see the bottom of the bottle. To seek temporary oblivion in the smoky liquor, away from her relentless thoughts.

_What use is love, when it can never be. I tried with my husbands, I really did. Now I fall for my second assistant? Mid-life crisis, much?_

Miranda dropped the divorce papers next to the discarded rings, hanging her head. Her vision swam as she grasped onto her glass, only the salty taste upon her lips alerting her to her tears.

 

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go badly in Paris.

Andrea Sachs exited the elevator, heading towards her room, a smaller suite adjoining Miranda’s. One of the perks of Paris Fashion week.

Andy wore a black silk Versace minidress, with a pair of black Louboutin ankle boots. The ensemble was cute and flirty, and showed her legs off nicely.

Andy thought the change of outfit might be fun. Maybe she could convince Miranda to have a light supper and take her mind off work for a little while. God knows she seemed stressed today.

She’d changed after deciding to cancel her date with Christian Thompson. At first the idea of a bit of sight-seeing and networking with the handsome writer seemed innocent enough. But his heavy-handed innuendos got on Andy’s nerves finally, and she left before her first drink was done.

It’s not like he was going to get anything out of the date anyway. Andy had stopped hitting for that particular team a while ago. Her relationship with Nate was over, thankfully. His phone call ending things had been a relief after months of trying to avoid intimacy.

Her parents had not been accepting of her new outlook on life and love. Coming out to them had been an unpleasant affair. Dad screaming, mom crying, and Andy… leaving.

Apparently, they thought Runway had turned their child into a “deviant”. And they lay the blame at one door. Miranda’s.

_Not that they were wrong._

At least in a sense. Miranda hadn’t “turned” Andy gay. She just made Andy realize what her heart wanted, even if it was impossible.

Impossible feelings for an impossible woman. A woman that criticized, confronted, and challenged. Made you want to be better.  Better than you thought you’d ever be. An icon of not only fashion, but what it was to be a strong woman.

And beautiful. So very beautiful. Snowy hair, cobalt blue eyes, porcelain skin. Eyes that could wound or delight with a glance. Lips that could frighten or charm with a single gesture.

_Damn, she had it bad._

It had been building for a while now. Since just before the Harry Potter incident. Since the time she took the book upstairs and caught Miranda and Stephen fighting. Of course, she’d fled, leaving the book behind. But that night she sat for hours in a late-night coffee shop, wondering at the scene.

_How dare he treat Miranda like that. Laying his drunken hands on her! How could she tolerate it? If it were me…_

_If it were me._

_Oh._

It was then Andy knew. Deciphered her conflicted heart. The feelings that had grown, for so many months.

She wanted it to be her. The one who cherished Miranda, instead of hurting her. Supported her, instead of tearing her down. Who protected Miranda’s heart, with everything she had.

Andy was in love with Miranda Priestly.

Of course, it could never happen. Miranda could never return her feelings. She was straight, after all, from all that Andy had seen. Even if she wasn’t, they came from two different worlds. Miranda was fashion royalty, a star, a thing of ethereal beauty. And Andy was just… Andy. No matter how much Chanel and Prada you cleaned her up with.

Sliding the keycard to her room, Andy closed the door and walked to the door leading to Miranda’s suite. She rapped on the door, waiting for a response. A muffled reply came from the other side. Andy cautiously opened the door, peering inside. The sight greeting her eyes shocked Andy.

Miranda Priestly, on the couch, without makeup. Eyes red-rimmed with crying. A glass of whiskey in her hands. Miranda turned her head, peering at Andy.

“Andrea,” she said. “What are you doing here?” Andy approached the couch warily. Miranda looked delicate, fragile, her defenses stripped away. Like a woman made of glass, or an ice sculpture of heartbreak.

Andy knelt before Miranda, looking up into her eyes. “What’s wrong?” Andy said, her voice a whisper. Miranda turned away from Andy. 

“You’ll have to change the seating arrangements for the banquet tomorrow,” Miranda murmured. “We’ll have an extra seat.”

“What about Stephen, isn’t he coming?” asked Andy.

“No,” replied Miranda.“But if he changes his mind, you can fetch him from the airport.”

Miranda looked at Andy, taking in the minidress riding up her thighs. “You’re very…fetching.”

Andy grabbed Miranda’s hand, impulsively. “What happened?” she asked. Something in her tone stopped Miranda.

She stared at Andy, a haunted look in her eyes. “He… he left me.” Miranda said. “Stephen. He filed for divorce. He faxed the papers here, from New York.”

“Bastard,” whispered Andy. “What’s that?” queried Miranda, a warning in her voice. “Nothing,” replied Andy. “It’s just, it’s just not right, Miranda. How could he do that to you?”

“Who knows?” replied Miranda. “Perhaps he needed somebody to make him feel more important,” she said. “Or maybe he just prefers to fuck his secretary.” “How could anyone want to give you up?” breathed Andy.

“Another marriage down, and worse, the girls will probably hate me now,” said Miranda.

“No, Miranda!” said Andy. “They know you love them, and they love you too!” Miranda cocked an eyebrow at Andy. “How would you know, Andrea?” she asked.

Andy froze, gauging Miranda’s expression. “Well, you know,” she said. “Sometimes we talk on the phone about stuff. I mean, things.”

“You talk, with my children?” queried Miranda. “And who exactly said you could do that?” Andy squirmed. “Well, um, they did?” she said. “

“Well that won’t continue, Andrea,” said Miranda. “You’re not to call them.” “I’m sorry,” Andy said. “It’s just, they’re smart and fun, and they really love you, they do. It’s just…” “Just what?” asked Miranda. “Sometimes they miss you,” replied Andy.

“Why are you dressed like that?” asked Miranda, sneering. “Going on a date with Mr. Thompson, are you?”

“Well, I was,” said Andy. “But not a date-date, just networking. It’s not like he was going to get anything anyway.” “Oh, are you still with the fry-cook?” queried Miranda.

“Uh, no,” replied Andy. “We broke up. I… I don’t see guys anymore. Not like that. Since I, you know, came out.” Miranda leaned closer to Andy, eyes curious.

“Came out?” she said. “Yeah. My parents weren’t really thrilled about it,” said Andy, ducking her head. “They kind of kicked me out.”

“So, what are you doing here?” asked Miranda. “Since your date with Mr. Thompson is no longer?”

“I just thought that maybe, maybe you’d like to relax tonight. Maybe go see the sights, or get something to eat,” said Andy. “You… you seemed really stressed today. I guess now I know why.”

“And why would you think I need your assistance?” Miranda said, her voice frosty. Andy grimaced. “I don’t know,” she said. “I know it sounds stupid, but I just wanted to help.”

Miranda gritted her teeth. “Help,” she said. “You wanted to help… me?”

“Yes, Miranda,” said Andy. “Is it so hard to believe that I want to help? That I care? Please, just tell me what I can do.”

Miranda glared at Andy. “Your job,” she said. “Do your job.”

Andy stood stiffly. She looked at Miranda, a strange emotion flickering over her face. She turned and walked to the door, closing it behind her.

Miranda smiled bitterly, but with satisfaction. “Foolish, naïve girl, wanting to help,” she thought. “But she left, just like they all leave. No one stays.”

The door banged open. Miranda looked up. Andy crossed the room, dropping to her knees again. “I won’t do it,” she said. “I won’t. I won’t leave you alone.”

“Leave, Andrea!” hissed Miranda. “You’re not welcome here.”

“No! I won’t,” Andy said. “Please, please tell me what I can do to help!” she said. “I’ll do anything.”

Miranda looked at the girl kneeling at her feet, her brown eyes beseeching. Her cheeks flushed, lips trembling.

“Anything?” said Miranda. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I don’t want to see you this way!” said Andy. “Because it hurts too much to see you suffer.”

“What do you mean?” asked Miranda. “You may think you’re alone, but you’re not,” Andy said. “You’re not.” “Of course, I am,” snarled Miranda. “Haven’t you been listening?”

Andy held her hands out to Miranda, tears sparkling in her eyes. “No, you’re not, you’re not alone, Miranda,” she said softly. “I won’t leave you, I won’t forsake you.”

“Everyone leaves,” said Miranda. “As soon as they’ve gotten what they want.”

Andy shook her head. “I won’t Miranda. I won’t leave you,” she said. “Don’t you see? I… I love you.”

Miranda’s mind whirled. She stared at Andrea, stunned. 

_Love? How can she love me?_

Her heart leapt inside, then crashed to the ground, terrified. She clenched her jaw, anger flaring.

_The foolish girl, what does she think she’s doing. She can’t do this now. All I need is another scandal, on top of everything else!_

“Get out,” said Miranda. “Now.” “But Miranda, I…” started Andy.

“I find this little seduction ploy of yours to be in very poor taste, Andrea,” Miranda said, voice icy. “And I won’t tolerate it.”

“But,” babbled Andy. “I just wanted to…”

“Who do you think you are, Andrea?” sneered Miranda. “Offering your love to me?” she chuckled, watching the brunette shrink beneath her venom. “You’re nobody, just some little girl from Ohio. You’re nothing.”

“Miranda, I’m sorry, I just…” said Andy.

“Poor, foolish Andrea,” purred Miranda. She paused, her eyes pinning Andy to the floor. “You really don’t know anything do you? About how the world truly is…”

“Well let me give you a little lesson. Let me show you just how far beneath me you are,” she said. She smirked, liquor and power over the girl exalting her. “You’re fired.”

Andrea stared at Miranda, shocked. She sobbed, her body shaking as she knelt before Miranda, tears streaming down her face.

“Please, Miranda, don’t… don’t send me away,” she begged.

Miranda slipped the knife in further.

“You’ll leave on the first plane out tomorrow,” said Miranda. “And don’t bother looking for references. You’ll never have a job in journalism, I promise. You’re blacklisted,” she said cruelly.

Andy hunched over, as though protecting a wound. She braced herself against the floor, her eyes dull. She nodded woodenly. Her labored breathing the only sound in the room. She raised her eyes to Miranda, pain radiating from chocolate orbs.

“If this is what it takes for you to feel better, to take your hurt away, then so be it,” she murmured. “I understand.”

Andy looked at Miranda, her face desolate. “All I wanted was to love you… just love you, that’s all.”

Andy staggered to her feet, walking slowly to her suite door. Closing it. Miranda heard the latch slide into place. Then the sounds of tears, of keening for something lost, behind the girl’s door.

 

 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the disaster.

Miranda sat at the hotel bar nursing a coffee. It had been a long day, but she had emerged victorious. Irv Ravitz was defeated and Jacqueline Follett sent off to James Holt. Then why did she feel like she had lost?

_Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with screwing over your best friend, and destroying a beautiful young girl, could it? A girl you had feelings for, too._

She’d done it. She’d seen the liquor fueled emails she’d sent out to her contacts in New York. Andrea’s career in journalism was over before it even started. There was no way she could take it back.

That would bring a whole new level of scrutiny to her that Irv would love.

No, Andrea’s firing would have to stand. No one would believe Miranda had a change of heart unless something else was going on. Something worthy of blackmail.

Miranda could not allow anyone to think that, not with the divorce happening. Stephen would immediately accuse her of infidelity, as ironic as that was.

She shook her head, still trying to clear her monumental headache. Like the guilt, it did not leave.

Across the room she saw Nigel approach.

_Was Nigel Kipling still a friend? She destroyed his dream and savaged his beloved “Six”. Was he still someone she could trust, or an enemy?_

Nigel sat heavily at the round table, across from Miranda. A waiter brought him a Grey Goose martini. He sipped the drink quietly, staring into the glass. He sighed. “Do you know what you’ve done?” he said, his voice weary. “Yes,” said Miranda, her voice flat. “I do.”

He looked at her, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. “Do you really, Miranda? I understand about me. I get it, it was business, you had to save Runway from Irv,” Nigel said. “But the rest…how could you do it?” “I was drunk,” replied Miranda. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“That’s a shitty excuse. I know about Andrea, and what you did to her was inexcusable,” said Nigel. He paused. “Have you even considered all she’s done for you?” he said. “All the ways she’s tried to make your life better, for so many months? And how do you repay her for that kindness?”

“I know Nigel, I know,” said Miranda. “Do you?” he asked. “You’ve ruined her. Broken her.” “It was just too much,” said Miranda. “I was afraid. Afraid of what the press would say. Of how it would affect the divorce. Of what the girls would think.”

“She loved you.” Nigel said. “That woman, that gentle creature offered you her heart,” he said. “And you spat on it. Then made sure she’d never be able to do the thing she loves.”

“What am I supposed to say, Nigel?” replied Miranda. “You don’t get it, do you?” said Nigel. “You destroyed her, and for what? Your pride? To stick it to Stephen a little harder? To avoid a spread on Page Six that people will forget in another month?”

Miranda’s eyes teared. “Nigel, I’m sorry, for everything,” she said. Nigel stared at her, eyes hard.

“Never again, Miranda,” Nigel said. “Never again. You can’t do this anymore. It’s too much.”

“Nigel, I understand…” said Miranda.

“No, you don’t, Miranda,” he said. “I understand you needed to beat Irv and Jacqueline. Stephen too. But that girl did nothing wrong. All she did was care for you.”  

“Have you seen her?” Miranda asked, cautiously.

Nigel nodded. “She came to my room early this morning. She was taking the red-eye to New York,” he said. “Aptly named flight. She was a wreck. Like she hadn’t stopped crying all night.”

“What can I do?” asked Miranda.

“Do you really think she’d accept your help now, Miranda?” asked Nigel. “What could you possibly say or do?”

“I don’t know,” answered Miranda. “I didn’t want to do that to her. I just lost control.”

“You never lose control, Miranda,” Nigel said, his voice cold. “Even when you’re drinking. You just decided that some of us were expendable.”

Miranda hung her head. “I didn’t want to,” she said. “To either of you.”

“But you did,” answered Nigel. “That might make you a hell of a strategist, Miranda. But does winning the game make you feel better, or any less alone?”

“I’m sorry, Nigel,” breathed Miranda.

“Sometimes, sometimes it’s really hard to be your friend, you know?” Nigel said.

“You still are?” asked Miranda, hopefully. Nigel nodded. “Yes, God help me, I am,” he replied.

He sighed, then smirked at Miranda. “Now all we have to do is figure out a way for you to get Six back.”


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new start for Andy.

Andy eyes opened. She lay on a long table, the room dimly lit by candlelight. Her hands and feet bound. Her mouth gagged with a Hermes scarf.

A figure emerged from the gloom. Wearing a long black Valentino gown, her silver hair bright in the darkness. Miranda. She smiled. Her face cruel, elegant. She traced the fingers of one hand across Andy’s cheek, ghosting them down Andy’s throat to her breasts.

“How disappointing you are, Andrea,” Miranda said. “So foolish, so common. Thinking a silly makeover made you worthy to be at Runway. Worthy to be with me.”

Andy struggled with her bonds, her jaw working against the scarf, desperate to speak. Miranda laughed. Her voice dark, mocking. “Whatever were you thinking, Andrea? You were only useful to fetch and carry, like a silly little dog. Yes, my obedient little bitch.”

“It’s time for you to understand. That you have nothing, are nothing. That everything you think you’ve gained belongs to Runway. Belongs to **me**. Just like the cast-offs you wear from the Closet. And I will have it all back.”

Miranda roughly tore the blue slip dress from Andy’s body, revealing the sheer La Perla lingerie beneath. Miranda’s grin widened, her teeth glittering, sharp. She reached behind her, drawing a small double-edged knife.

She slipped the cold blade against Andy’s skin, cutting the bra from her body, then the panties. Leaving Andy bare, exposed. Miranda smirked, running her fingertips over Andy’s skin. Across her breasts, towards the heat that throbbed between her legs. Andy’s arousal flared, despite the cruelty on Miranda’s face.

“Did you really think I would want this? That I could ever want **you**?” Miranda chuckled. She paused, staring down at Andy as she struggled.

Miranda tapped one finger against her temple. “But I’m forgetting one last thing. Something you gave to me, it seems,” she said. “Since you’re leaving, I will need it back.”

Miranda ran one hand between Andy’s breasts. Searching, measuring. She paused, a wicked smile on her face. The knife in her hand flashed down.

Pressure, then a cold searing pain pinned Andy to the table. Her hips bucked wildly as the knife entered, cutting deep. Then blood. Blood everywhere.

On her breasts, over her belly, flooding the table. The coppery taste of it filling Andy’s mouth.

Miranda’s hand a claw, reaching inside, tearing something free. Her fist incarnadine, raised triumphantly. A beating heart clutched in her fingers.

Miranda’s eyes glittered as she smiled down at Andy. “That’s all,” she said.

 

Andy woke up jarred awake, shaken by the nightmare. Her eyes blinked, adjusting to the early morning light streaming in through the windows.

The apartment on Broome Street was quiet. The small one-bedroom walkup lay stripped by Nate. The bed and most of the furniture gone.

_Empty, abandoned. Just like me. Like the ghost of the life I used to have, and my dreams, too._

Andrea lay on her threadbare couch, the only large piece left to her, wrapped in an old afghan her grandmother had made. She hadn’t even changed for bed when she arrived home. She’d stripped off her clothes, throwing them to the floor, curling naked under the blanket. Shivering in the empty room until she cried herself to sleep.

_Why? Why did she do it? Was the thought of me loving her so disgusting?_

She went over the events from two nights ago. A wave of sorrow rushed through her. Andy shook her head, rising shakily from the couch. She headed into the kitchen.

The cupboards were stripped. Pots, pans and dishes all gone. She pulled out a plastic Hello Kitty mug, searching for the aspirin.

Damn Nate, she thought, He goes to Boston, and takes all our stuff with him. Half of which I bought. Like the furniture and all the Le Creuset cookware she’d bought with her Runway salary.

_Fucking man-child._

Finding the aspirin, she took three, downing them with some tap water. No Pellegrino anymore, she thought. Not until I get a job.

A job. That was the question. She’d need to find one soon. Her last check wouldn’t last long. She sent out her resume to a number of publishers and booksellers, but none had replied yet.

At least positively, thought Andy sourly. Miranda really did blacklist me.

Stepping to the kitchen counter, Andy checked her email. A message from Nate, reminding her to pay the rent.

_Which he didn’t contribute to, even though he stayed most of the month._

And one other, a response to an application. From Maybourne Publishing.

 _Hmm_. _They’re_ _some_ _kind_ _of_ _children’s_ _publishing_ _house_.

Andy had gotten a bit desperate during her search for a job opening, and had sent an application to the tiny publisher, located downtown.

She scanned the message. They wanted her to come in for an interview, this afternoon. A phone number to confirm lay at the end of the message. Nervously picking up her phone off the counter, she dialed the number.

The phone rang seven times, then picked up. A man with a British accent answered, his voice friendly. “Maybourne Publishing, Tim Maybourne here, may I help you?” Andy stammered. “Uh, yes, good morning,” she said. “My name is Andy, I mean, Andrea Sachs. I applied for the position you were advertising. I’m supposed to come in for an interview?”

The man chuckled. “Oh, yes, I remember,” he said. “You applied for the assistant editor position in art books.” “Yes,” replied Andy. “When should I come in?” Andy heard the sound of rustling on the man’s desk.

“Let’s say twelve-thirty this afternoon,” Maybourne said. “We’ll have lunch and chat a bit about the position.” “Yes sir,” said Andy. “Now, none of that. Call me Tim.” Andy smiled. “Of course, Tim,” she answered. “Right,” said Maybourne. “I must be off, see you at lunch.” The call disconnected.

 

 

 

 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy gets a job.

Andy nervously dressed for the interview. She chose a casual Donna Karan belted midi-dress, in navy blue, with a pair of charcoal pumps. She decided to splurge on a taxi, since she didn’t want to chance getting dirty on the street.

She hailed a cab outside her apartment and took it down to Broad Street. Checking the address, she looked at the list of occupants in the building lobby. Maybourne Publishing was on the third floor. Taking the elevator, she arrived at her destination.

A young redhead sat at the reception desk. The woman smiled at Andy. “Good afternoon,” she said. “May I help you?”

_Wow, this redhead sure is nicer than Emily, thought Andy. Easy on the eyes, too._

“Yes, please,” replied Andy. “My name is Andrea Sachs. I have an interview with Mr. Maybourne.”

“Ah, so you’re the one dad is seeing,” grinned the woman. “Nicole Maybourne, here,” she said. “As you can see, we’re a family business, so I’m manning the front.”

Nicole stood, leading Andy to a large office in the back of the space. She cracked the door, speaking. “Dad, your 12:30 appointment is here, Ms. Sachs.” Nicole led Andy inside.

“Oh, good,” said Tim Maybourne, turning from a laptop. “Come in, come in, Ms. Sachs. Please have a seat.” Maybourne turned to his daughter. “Nicole, please get us two salads and some bottled water from the lunch room.” Nicole nodded, exiting the room.

Tim Maybourne sat down at a long table, motioning Andy to take a seat beside him. An older man, in his 60’s. Wearing a gray glen plaid suit. Bright blue eyes and a shock of salt and pepper hair. Wire rimmed glasses lay perched on his nose.

Nicole retuned, placing the salads and water on the table, smiling as she left. “Well, I’m happy to see you here today, Ms. Sachs,” said Maybourne, smiling. “I enjoyed reading your cover letter and resume. I think you have some experience that may be perfect for the job I have in mind.”

“What’s that?” queried Andy. “Your work at Runway. It dovetails very nicely with a product line we’re developing. “About that Mr. Maybourne,” replied Andy. “I was fired from Runway, due to a personal dispute. Miranda Priestly has pretty much blacklisted me. So, I wouldn’t want to cause any problems.”

Tim Maybourne chuckled. “Not to worry, Ms. Sachs. I’ve heard about that. But we’re a family business here. We’re not beholden to Ms. Priestly,” he said. “Besides, I knew Miri… I mean Miranda, long ago. So, I know something of her temper.”  

“Oh,” said Andy. “So, what is the job?” “As you know, we’re a publishing house that specializes in children’s literature and educational playthings,” Maybourne said. “What I have in mind for you involves our Fashion Girl line of products.”

Maybourne lad Andy to a table, showing her a pile of books and games.

“As you can see, we’ve been working on a line of coloring and sticker books for young girls, as well as games which focus on fashion,” he said. “But the current mock-ups just lack something, something to make them special. I would like you to work on developing the line.”

“Why me?” asked Andy. “You’ve learned from the best, Miranda Priestly herself,” said Maybourne. “I would like to see you develop the educational side of the product, beyond a mere dolly dress-up.”

“How?” asked Andy. Maybourne laughed. “That’s for you to figure out,” he said. “I want you to make this project your own.” Andy looked at the coloring and sticker books. “You’re going to let me do this?” she asked.

“Yes,” grinned Maybourne. “You’re young, ambitious, and want to create,” he said. “I know it’s not journalism, but it is writing. The focus is on teaching, rather than news.” Maybourne looked at Andy, “So, what do you say, are you up for the challenge?” he asked. Andy smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll take it!”

 

* * *

 

Andy sat on her bed, looking at the pile of mockups Tim had given her. There was a germ of an idea here. But it needed to be developed, refined.

She thought of the Book. How Miranda took the raw ideas of her staff and turned them into something different. Something greater. An alloy of beauty, passion and art. If only she could do something like that here.

Andy thought of the beautiful editor, her hair a crown of frost. The deep cobalt eyes that pierced Andy’s heart.

_God, I still love her, so much, even now. Even after all this, I can’t forget her._

Andy sighed, closing her eyes.

_I can start again. I will, despite Miranda. Despite my heart. My treacherous heart, that begs me to see her again. To give myself to her...because, despite everything, that’s all I want. To be hers…_

“And what kind of fool am I to still feel this way?” Andy whispered.

Andy stared at the books that lay before her, lost in thought, heedless of the tears that streamed down her face.

 

 


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda has regrets.

Miranda Priestly sat in her townhouse on East 73rd Street. She sipped on a glass of Barolo, savoring the rich flavor of the Piedmontese wine. The divorce was over, finally. Stephen sent packing with little gain from their union. Miranda sighed. Now that it was finalized, things were slowly returning to normal, or at least a measure of sanity.

In the last six months since the debacle in Paris, Miranda had tried to make changes. She took more time off, spending it with the girls. She delegated more authority to others, especially Nigel. She ceased worrying about the press and what new foolishness might emerge on Page Six. All of this did nothing to soothe one particular worry. About one person. Andrea.

It was like the earth swallowed the woman up, since she left Paris, she thought.

Neither Nigel, Emily or Serena had heard anything from her. Her apartment on Broome Street was empty, and human resources had received no requests for references. Perhaps she had moved. Swallowed her pride and begged her parents for help. Or maybe she had moved to a different city.

_It’s frustrating. I hurt her. Now that I want to help, I’m unable to._

Miranda thought about that night in Paris. Andrea’s eyes so full of pain, of honest feeling.

_Why did I do it? Was it really just fear? Fear of what people would think? Thoughtlessly rejecting the beautiful woman and tearing her down._

_And she is beautiful. In so many ways._

It wasn’t as if Miranda hadn’t thought of Andrea in that way before. She had, so many times. She’d just never acted on it, knowing she was trapped in a loveless marriage.

Miranda realized now that her interest in the girl had been different. More than a mere attraction to her kindness and beauty. She had feelings for the girl, deeper than she’d allowed herself to believe.

_If only I’d waited. I might have had a chance. A chance for something good._

Miranda wondered at that. Wondered what it might have been like. To accept Andrea’s feelings without fear.

Miranda had thought of the brunette so many nights when she lay alone in her bed. Had wanted her. Heated fantasies blazing through her mind. She’d envisioned the girl’s doe eyes as they widened in passion. Her full lips and slender fingers playing upon Miranda’s skin as they fell together.

Too late now _._ In her fear _,_ she’d predictably lashed out at Andrea _._ The damage was done _._

_Well you did it to yourself. All hail the Ice Queen. Sovereign of an empty kingdom, all alone. Too stupid to see what might have been._

Miranda looked out the window of her study to the street below, the drink suddenly sour on her lips. She put the glass down on her desk, walking down the hall to her bedroom. Shrugging out of her dressing gown, she tore the comforter loose from the bed, slipping underneath, curling in upon herself as a quiet sob escaped her lips. Clutching the blankets to her, she fell to sleep.

Miranda woke. The moon high in the sky overhead, shrouded in wispy clouds. Miranda rose from a bed of grass and wildflowers. A light, lilting sound came to her ears. A woman’s laughter, sweet, musical. Calling her. A figure in white appeared from a copse of trees nearby. A diaphanous silk gown covered the curves of her hips and breasts. The night wind teased her long brown hair. Her chocolate eyes luminous, seductive. Andrea.

The brunette smirked, laughing once again, as she skipped away from Miranda. The editor followed, her heart seized with a sudden desperation. Branches and brambles tore at her pink La Perla chemise. Ahead, Miranda spied Andrea, her footfalls light in the forest.

Moonlight broke through the trees ahead. A clearing. The trees fell away around a small hill. A large gnarled yew tree at its top. Andrea stood, her lithe form leaning against the tree. Miranda approached, her feet bare against the grass.

“Andrea,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, so sorry.” “You came for me,” answered Andrea, smiling. The moon’s light pierced Andrea’s gown, revealing her form beneath. Miranda’s breath caught, arrested by the girl’s beauty.

“Do you want to see me?” asked Andrea. Her voice low, husky. Miranda nodded dumbly, unable to speak. Andrea turned around, her back to Miranda. She let the gown slip from her shoulders and pool around her ankles, stepping free.

Miranda’s eyes widened, breathlessly taking in the vision that was Andrea. Her strong shoulders, trim waist, and long, lissome legs. Andrea giggled, tossing her hair, throwing a smoldering look over her shoulder. “Are you ready?” she whispered.

Andrea turned. Miranda’s blood turned to ice. She stared in horror. Between Andrea’s perfectly formed breasts lay a hole. Deep, roughly carved. Blood seeping from it. “I gave you my heart, but you took it away,” said Andrea, her voice darkening. Her eyes accusing.

“Since you don’t use yours, I think I’ll borrow it.” She pulled Miranda to the ground, straddling her, pulling the chemise down. Andrea leaned close, hers lips almost brushing Miranda’s. “My heart is yours, and yours is mine,” she whispered. A terrible smile spread upon her face, and Miranda knew there would be no mercy.

 

Miranda lurched awake, breathing heavily, cold sweat on her skin. Her shoulders began to tremble as she cried, her head pressed into her knees. Miranda grasped a bottled water from the night stand, holding the chill container against her forehead. Trying to compose herself.

_What have I done?_

She’d ruined Andrea. A woman who cared for her. Who went out of her way to make Miranda’s days lighter. Who loved her. And all for what? Fear? Pride? Her job?

None of those reasons were good enough. None of them held a candle to the vision of Andrea, on her knees. Tears streaming down her face, as though she’d been gutted. Her love, her very heart, refused.

Miranda shook her head, scowling. The sad fact was, her own heart had felt the same.

Her foolish heart.

How it leapt whenever Andrea entered her office. How it swelled with warmth, when their eyes met. How it burned as Andrea’s fingers brushed against hers. How it clenched in jealousy when Christian Thompson touched her.

She’d wanted Andrea, had fallen for her.

Yet she’d hurt her anyway.  

“You fool,” she whispered to herself. “You stupid, stupid fool.”


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new apartment.

Andy entered her new apartment on Gold Street, a bag of groceries in her hands. Although she’d taken the new job, she still couldn’t afford her rent on the old Broome Street apartment. But Nicole came to the rescue. Her previous roommate had moved out, having graduated law school from NYU. Andy had been able to move right in.

She’d been roommates with Nicole six months now. Her first purchase had been a new queen-sized bed, and a dresser to go with it. At least she had closet space to spare. Runway had at least provided a decent wardrobe for her to start out with.

Andy opened the grocery bag. Fresh spinach, and jasmine rice. Plus, some sea scallops from down the street at the Fulton Street Fish Market. She’d sear the scallops and pair them with the other items. At least some of the things Nate tried to teach her about cooking had stuck.

This will be easy to make and yummy. She pulled out a bottle of Pieropan soave, perfect for the meal.

Nicole entered from her bedroom, in a simple blue and white Ralph Lauren wrap dress, sandals on her feet. “Hey,” she said. “You’re playing chef today?” “Yeah,” laughed Andy. “Just wanted to make something nice for us.”  

The redhead sat at a stool by the kitchen island. Andy studied her friend. Long, wavy red hair, deep jade eyes. Slim, with the figure of an athlete.

_Not surprising, considering she runs in the park and takes kickboxing lessons. She is gorgeous, though._

Not that Andy was really looking. Her heart still belonged to one person. One whose ice-blue eyes and rapier tongue had torn her world apart. Miranda.

“So, how’s the project coming?” Nicole asked. “You make any headway with the Fashion Girl line?” Andy nodded. “Yes, I’m glad your dad gave me time to rework the products.”

“What did you do?” asked Nicole. “I’ve updated the vinyl sticker books so kids can mix and match fashions on the models,” Andy said. “That way they can play with what works and what doesn’t.

“How will they do that?” asked Nicole. “Well, each kit will focus on a different type of fashion,” Andy said. “You know, like couture, bridal, casual. The girls can play with using different elements to create different looks.”

“Okay, that sounds good,” replied Nicole. “What else?” “I’ve changed the coloring books so that each book has examples of fashions from different eras and significant designers,” Andy said. Nicole nodded. “That sounds interesting,” she replied.  

“I also changed the sketchbooks,” said Andy. “They have stencils so kids can practice learning how to draw model forms and drape different styles of clothing on them, until they can do it freehand,” Andy explained.

“What about the educational piece?” asked Nicole. “Well, the sticker books give examples on how to use different pieces. They show how to create looks by matching items that complement each other, or create an effect through dissonance,” Andy said. “Each of the coloring books has biographical information on famous designers, their work, and historical context. And the sketchbooks give lessons on drawing figures, creating natural poses, and draping fabric properly.”

Nicole chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this. “Uh-huh,” said Andy. “I’m also trying to work with our tech team to see if we can develop digital versions of the products for computer.”

“Great,” said Nicole. “Seems like your time at Runway was well spent.” “Yeah,” answered Andy. “I just wish I didn’t mess things up there. It would’ve been nice to stay longer, and not burn my bridges.” Andy turned away, looking down. “But, me and my big mouth,” she grinned weakly.

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Nicole. “Sure,” Andy said. “I guess I’m just being silly. There’s no point in missing someone…  I mean something I can’t go back to.”

“Someone,” asked Nicole. “So, it’s a person?” “It doesn’t matter,” said Andy. “I messed up, I don’t even know why I still think of her.”

“Her?” asked Nicole. “Who is she?” “Never mind,” said Andy, shaking her head. “I need to focus on here and now, not Runway.” “Come on,” said Nicole. “It’s been months. If you’re still thinking about her, she must be important to you.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not important to her,” replied Andy. “She told me that my feelings were nothing. That I was nothing.” Nicole frowned. “Yet you still think about her,” she said. “You still love her.”

Andy sighed. “Well, yeah,” she said. “But it’s impossible, nothing’s going to happen. I’ll probably never see her again.”

“In New York? In publishing?” scoffed Nicole. “C’mon Andy, you know you’re going to see her again.” Andy smirked. “And that’s what I’m afraid of,” she said.

Nicole moved to a large sketchbook, by Andy’s notes for the project. “Oh,” said Andy, embarrassed. “Those were just some drawings and ideas I had early on in the project.”

Nicole flipped through the book, eyeing sketches of models in different dresses and outfits. “I didn’t know you were an artist,” Nicole said.

“Not really,” Andy answered. “It’s just a hobby I had since I was a kid. When I was in grade school I was accepted into a special art program. It just grew from there.” “These are great, “Nicole said, looking at the pencil and ink portraits of women in different poses.

Nicole stopped midway through the book, at one portrait. A woman wearing a Valentino gown, her graceful neck and cleavage exposed. The woman’s hair was short, white, lightly tousled. Her mouth set in an alluring smirk. Her eyes the only bright color, an arresting cobalt blue.

“She’s beautiful,” breathed Nicole. “This is Miranda, right?” “Yeah,” replied Andy, her face flushing pink. “So that’s who it is. Who you care for. Now I know you still love the woman,” said Nicole. “It shows in the sketch.”

“I suppose I still do,” she said, softly. “But does it matter?”

Andy looked down at her sketch, tracing the familiar image with her eyes. She could see it, the warmth, the care put into each line, each careful shading. An echo of the feeling she held for the subject.

Miranda. The keeper of her heart.

_I do love her. But does that mean anything? Does love matter if it’s not returned? If it’s ignored, or worse, rejected?_

Andy shook her head.

_Where does love go, when it’s unrequited? Where does it go, when every hope lies fallen around your feet, like dead leaves or shattered glass?_

_Perhaps some cold place, empty, like the hollow in your heart. Some gray land, without warmth, without color, where it withers, all alone._

Nicole interrupted her train of thought, her eyes concerned. “Does it matter?” she said, her voice soft

“I wish I knew,” Andy replied.

 

 


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinks with Nigel.

Miranda Priestly sat in Bemelmans Bar, at the Carlyle Hotel, drinking a Rob Roy, the combination of Johnnie Walker scotch and vermouth tingling in her throat as she waited. The warm light of table lamps casting shadows on the whimsical murals adorning the walls. A barstool squeaked closer to her. Nigel.

“Hello Miranda,” he said. The bartender approached. “Give me an Old-Fashioned, on the rocks, please,” Nigel said. He turned to Miranda. “As pleasant as the surroundings are, why did you ask to meet here.”

“I don’t know,” Miranda replied. “It seemed fitting, I suppose. Did you know Ludwig Bemelman was an artist for the New Yorker, and Vogue?” she said, gesturing at the illustrated walls.

Miranda shrugged. “It seemed apropos. One of those magazines was where she wanted to work. The other one drives me to make Runway a success, hurting people like you and Andrea in the process.”

Miranda tossed down the rest of her drink, signaling for another. “I guess it’s like Joni Mitchell sang, “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone”, Miranda smirked.

“I miss her,” she said. “So very much.”

“I know,” said Nigel, nodding. “Andy does have that effect on people. Worming her way into your heart, when you least expect it.”

“I adore the memory of her in that hideous cerulean sweater, daring me to hire her,” said Miranda. “Her smile each morning. The soft glow in her eyes when she knew she’d surprised me.” she said.  “How she remembered my daughter’s names and talked with them whenever she dropped off the Book.”

Nigel stared at her. “So, you did care,” he said.

“But not enough, and not when it counted,” replied Miranda. “It took me too long to know my own heart. I let myself be scared and ruined everything.”

“I’m sorry Miranda,” said Nigel. “Isn’t there anything you can do? She has to be living here still.”

“In a city of, what, a million and a half people in Manhattan alone?” scoffed Miranda. “But have you tried? Really tried?” said Nigel.

“To be honest, no I haven’t. I haven’t tried that hard to find her,” said Miranda. “Why?” asked Nigel.

“Because I’m scared,” said Miranda. “What if I can’t find her? What if she doesn’t want to be found?” Nigel shrugged. “You have to look for her, first, Miranda,” he said.

Miranda frowned, ducking her head. “What if I do find her, and she hates me?” she said, her voice soft.

“You won’t know how she feels until you find her,” said Nigel. “You screwed up, now it’s up to you to fix things.”

“Does that really sound like me, Nigel?” Miranda asked. “Have you ever known me to say I’m sorry for my actions before?”

“Are you sorry about what you did to Andy?” Nigel asked. “Yes, of course I am,” replied Miranda. “Then you know what to do,” he said. “What’s that?” queried Miranda.

“You need to stop acting like Miranda Priestly, and just be a woman in love,” replied Nigel. “Love,” said Miranda, wistfully. “Even if she forgave me, after all this, would she still want me?” 

“I don’t know, and neither will you, if you don’t do anything about it.” said Nigel.

“I wish I knew what to do,” said Miranda. “But I’ve never actually felt like this before. Never held someone in my heart that I was afraid of losing, except my girls.”

Nigel cocked his head at Miranda, taking a sip of his drink. “I’ve never known you to give up on something you really wanted,” said Nigel. “Do you want her?”

Miranda smiled crookedly, her voice husky. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“Than do it,” said Nigel. “Find her. You have to, if you want to convince her you’ve changed.” Miranda nodded, sipping at her drink.

“I know,” replied Miranda. “But I’m no good at this, at feelings, at emotion. I know what I want, but I don’t know how to get it.”

Nigel smiled. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m here to help,” he smirked. “After all, if we put our heads together, I’m sure we can make our sweet little Andy forgive you. You do want that, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” said Miranda. “I just don’t know how she’ll react, after everything I’ve done. It’s not like, ‘Oops, my bad’ is going to cover it.”

“Oh, look at you, Miranda, how cute. You’re using the vernacular, just like us common folk,” snarked Nigel. “I believe this is also in the vernacular, Nigel,” said Miranda, flipping him off.

“Now that’s what you need to show, to win Andy back. Your playful side,” smirked Nigel. “I don’t have a playful side,” grumbled Miranda.

“Yes, you do,” said Nigel. “You have two children to prove it.” “Less play and more chore,” mumbled Miranda.

“Yes, we’ve documented your aversion to penis, Miranda,” said Nigel. “I can’t really fault you, however, especially after Stephen. But perhaps if you do things right this time, you’ll be able to avail yourself of Andy’s considerable charms.”

“I hope so,” said Miranda. “Listen and learn, Miranda, listen and learn,” said Nigel. “You’ll have to charm your way back into lovely Six’s heart. Which in your case, is going require a lot of effort.”

“I was right before,” replied Miranda. “About what?” Nigel replied.

“Fuck you, Nigel.” Miranda said, grinning.

“You’re not my type,” he said back, laughing. They clinked glasses and started to plan.

 

 


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids are alright with Miranda.

Cassidy Priestly sat in the family room, looking at the Barnes & Noble retail site on her laptop. “This looks good,” she said. “Sticker books, coloring books and sketch books. I bet even you would like these.”

“Like what,” asked Miranda, peering over at her daughter. “Oh, it’s a new line of fashion books and games, it looks pretty cool,” replied Cassidy. “It even features some of your favorite designers.”

“Oh?” replied Miranda, coming close to view the screen. “Hmm, let’s see,” she said. “Fashion Girl books and art games. It looks… interesting,” she said “The books and sticker games look rather well done. Is this something you’d like, Cassidy?”

Cassidy nodded. “I think so,” she said. “It looks like a fun way to learn about some of the things you do at work.”

Miranda looked at the computer. “It says they’re having a launch event at the Barnes and Noble on 17th Street, on Saturday. Would you like to take a look?

Cassidy grinned. “Really mom?” she said. “That’s be great!” Miranda patted her shoulder. “We’ll ask your sister if she’d like to go, as well.”

“I think Caroline might like the sketch books, you know how she likes to draw,” replied Cassidy.

“Alright,” said Miranda. “We’ll go to this release event and see what it’s all about.” “You’re going to take us?” replied Cassidy. “No work, just you and me and Caroline?”

“Of course,” said Miranda. “I’ve spent far too much time away from you girls lately, it’s time I changed that.”

Cassidy smiled, hugging her mother. “Thanks mom,” she said. “That’s really great, I can’t wait to go.”

“I’m glad, sweetheart,” answered Miranda. “From now on, I’m not going to let work take so much of my time.”

“Really mom?” asked Cassidy. “Really,” said Miranda. “Some things are more important than Runway. Like the people I love.”

“We love you too, mom,” replied Cassidy. “I know,” answered Miranda. “I don’t want to lose anyone… anything else to my job.”

“Anyone else? Are you talking about Stephen?” asked Cassidy. “No, not Stephen,” answered Miranda. “Somebody else, someone I cared a great deal for.”

“Who was it?” queried Cassidy. “A friend, I guess you might say,” replied Miranda. “I didn’t realize how much she meant to me until she was gone.”

“Then you’ll just have to show her you’re really, really sorry,” replied Cassidy. “I hope I can do that, Bobbsey,” said Miranda. “I hope that she’ll forgive me.”

“Just be honest with her, mom,” said Cassidy. “If you love someone, you do whatever it takes to make them happy, right?”

“L…love?” replied Miranda. “I think I know who you’re talking about, mom. Isn’t she more than just some friend?” asked Cassidy. “You wouldn’t be this unhappy, otherwise.”

“Why do you say I’m unhappy?” asked Miranda.

Cassidy eyed her mother, frowning. “It’s been this way ever since you came back from Paris,” she said. “If you aren’t busy at Runway, you’re miserable. At first, I thought it was about Stephen, but then I realized that couldn’t be it. He was awful. It had to be something, no, someone else.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been this way,” said Miranda. “I didn’t mean to drag you girls into my problems.”

Caroline Priestly entered the room, sitting beside her sister.

“Mom, before Paris, you seemed happier,” Caroline said. “You had more time to do things with us. Like the time Andy came over to help us with our science project. Or when you two taught us how to bake cookies for school.”

“Yes, well, I suppose,” muttered Miranda.

“Where did Andy go?” asked Caroline. “Did she leave you?” Miranda looked at Caroline, shocked.

“Leave me?” she asked. “What do you mean, Caroline?” “Come on mom,” said Caroline. “You were different with her. You acted different. She made you happy.”

Miranda felt flustered.

_Did her children recognize her feelings for Andrea?_

 “Well, she was a good assistant, a friend I suppose,” replied Miranda, hedging.

“What happened mom?” asked Cassidy, her voice stern. “What did you do?” “We had a difficult time in Paris. We fought. I had to let her go,” answered Miranda.

“You fired her?” gasped Cassidy. “Why mom? She was good for you, she cared about you, about all of us.” Miranda shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand, girls,” Miranda said. “You’re too young.”

“No, we’re not, mom,” answered Caroline. “I’m not, and neither is Cassidy. We can tell when you love somebody, and when they love you.”

Miranda searched Caroline’s face. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“It was obvious, mom,” Caroline said. “The way she’d do little things for you, and make sure you had time to spend with us. The way she got you to laugh and have fun.” Caroline smiled. “I think she loves you. And I think you love her, too.”

Miranda looked at her daughters. She paused, suddenly cautious. “How do you girls feel about that?” she said. “About me having feelings for another woman, for Andy?”

“It’s the 21st century mom,” answered Cassidy, rolling her eyes. “Who cares? All we want is for you to be happy. Besides, she’s way better than Stephen was.”

“I do have feelings for her, very strong feelings,” said Miranda. Miranda sighed. “But I’m afraid I ruined things. I hurt her. I was spiteful, and cruel,” she said.

“So, you went full dragon on her,” said Caroline. Miranda chuckled bleakly. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” she replied.

“That just means you have to win her heart back,” answered Cassidy. “And we can help.” “Help?” asked Miranda.

“Of course,” smiled Cassidy. “After all, someone has to make sure you two don’t mess things up.”

“Oh, really?” replied Miranda. “Yes,” answered Caroline. “You two dance around each other way too much.”

“Oh, and what do you suggest I do?” asked Miranda, smirking. “You’ll have to commit to a full charm offensive. Flowers, poetry, moonlit walks, the works,” grinned Cassidy.

“You’ve been watching too many romantic comedies,” replied Miranda. “And you haven’t watched enough,” chuckled Caroline.

Miranda smiled, laughing with her daughters.

 _If they can accept this, maybe I have a chance. Now all I need to do is convince Andrea._  

 

 

 


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinks, dancing and a kiss.

It was a busy Friday night for Andy, putting together the press kits and samples for the release event at Barnes & Noble. She looked over the finished products, nodding with satisfaction. Tomorrow Fashion Girl would hit the shelves, and the reviewers would have their say on it. Even press from Teen Vogue and Girl’s Life would be there.

Nicole laughed. “C’mon, Andy,” she said. “You’ve gone over all this a dozen times already. We’re good. It’s time for you to blow off some steam.”

“What do you mean?” asked Andy. “I have to make sure this is perfect for tomorrow.”

“It will be, you’ve been working on it for six months,” grinned Nicole. “Now let’s go out, have a drink or two, and dance some of that stress away.”

“Really?” queried Andy, grinning. “Yeah, let’s go,” encouraged Nicole. “Maybe you’ll find a cute little somebody out there.”

“Oh, please,” said Andy, rolling her eyes. “Do not get on the topic of dating.”

“Hey, I’m not saying you’ll find Ms. Right,” chuckled Nicole. “But maybe you’ll find Ms. Right Now.” “Oh, God, that was awful,” replied Andy, chuckling. “Just think how much worse I’ll get after a couple of margaritas,” said Nicole, winking.

Nicole and Andy walked into Henrietta Hudson, sitting at the bar together. A DJ spun records in the corner, as the patrons listened and chatted. Andy ordered a vodka martini, shaken. She ordered a margarita for Nicole.

“I always liked it here,” said Nicole. “And it won’t get too crazy tonight, although I wouldn’t mind seeing you let your hair down a bit.”

Andy shrugged. “I don’t want to get too wild, since we’ve got the reveal tomorrow.” Nicole nodded. “We won’t. Just a little bit of fun, so we can relax,” she said.

“Don’t look so down,” said Nicole. “If I thought I had a chance, I’d try my luck with you in a heartbeat.” “Oh, really?” smirked Andy. “For real,” replied Nicole. “But I get it. You’re still in love with Miranda.”

“Sorry,” said Andy. “I still care about her. Even though I never had a chance.” “Why?” asked Nicole. “Well, she’s straight, and rich,” Andy said. “Oh, yeah, she fired me. So, I’m pretty sure of her feelings about me.” 

Nicole shrugged. “Her loss,” she said, smirking. “My eventual gain?” “I’m sorry that I’m being such a downer, Nicole,” said Andy.

“Don’t worry,” said Nicole. “I understand. You have a lot of deep feelings for her, and you’ve carried them for a long time.”

“She’s just unlike any woman I’ve ever known,” said Andy. “The first day we met, she cut me to pieces about an old blue sweater I wore to my interview. Said how I didn’t understand fashion because I couldn’t even recognize it was cerulean,” she said. “Yet I was mesmerized, from the first moment.”

Andy chuckled.  “I think in some way, I started to fall for her then and there.”

“C’mon, stop moping, let’s dance,” said Nicole, grabbing Andy’s hand. She pulled Andy close, laughing, as they spun around the floor. Andy grinned, her hands fell to Nicole’s hips as they moved together.

“See, I told you,” said Nicole. “All you needed was a drink and a dance, and you’d be 100% better.” Andy chuckled. “Well, show me some moves, roomie,” she said. “Let’s have some fun tonight.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Nicole. “Tomorrow’s for work, but tonight’s all us.” They moved in synch, bodies close as they danced.

_I’m glad she made me come out. I like this, dancing with her, it feels… good._

Nicole’s eyes traced Andy’s face fondly, a gentle smile on her face. The music slowed. They swayed closer. Nicole’s hands on Andy’s hips, their heads leaning lightly together.

“Thanks,” said Andy. “I’m really glad we came here.” The music stopped as the DJ took a break. Nicole led them back to the bar, taking Andy by the hand as they moved through the gathering crowd.

“Olá querida,” a voice said. A tall blonde woman, in a white Halston slip dress approached. Her hand reaching out to Andy’s. A redhead in a Vivienne Westwood floral print beside her. “Serena, Emily!” said Andy. “Good to see both of you!” 

The Brazilian beauty hugged Andy. Emily stood beside her, smirking. “So, what’s all this,” said Emily. “Gotten over the Dragon already?” She cut her eyes at Nicole.

“This is my roommate,” said Andy. “And no, not like that!” said Andy, looking at Serena’s grin. “Too bad,” chuckled Serena. “She is very beautiful, yes?”

“That’s what I keep telling her,” laughed Nicole. “So, what are you doing here?” asked Emily.

“Just having some fun,” said Nicole. “Tomorrow we have an exhibition at Barnes & Noble.”

“Let me introduce you two. This is Nicole Maybourne,” Andy said to the other women. “I work for her father at Maybourne Publishing, downtown. I’ve been working there for about six months now.”

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding” said Emily. “Gone over to a book publisher.” Serena chuckled. “No wonder no one could find you, they were looking in all the wrong places,” she said. Emily ordered a caipirinha for Serena and a gin martini for herself.

“Who’s been looking?” asked Andy. “Nigel, for one,” said Emily. “Ah, but who’s been searching even more?” said Serena mischievously, winking at Andy.

“Don’t even start,” muttered Emily. “She’s gone through eight second assistants in the past six months. All that time, she keeps asking me about Andy. “Where’s Andrea?” “Have you heard from Andrea?” 

Andy felt a shiver run through her body. “Who are you talking about?” Andy asked.  Emily glared at Andy. “You know very well who,” she said. “Miranda fucking Priestly, that’s who. She’s gone barking mad.”

“She wants to know where I am?” asked Andy. “Yes, and she’s actually nice to me when she asks, which tells you how off she is!” said Emily. “I don’t know why she’d do that,” Andy said. “I mean, she fired me!”

“Just what I thought,” replied Emily. “But she’s had human resources and Nigel scouring the city for you. And not in the ‘I will crush you’ sort of way, either.”

Andy cocked her head. “Strange,” she said. “She was furious when she fired me. She couldn’t be rid of me fast enough.” “Why did she fire you?” asked Serena, curiously. “Everyone figured you must’ve said something to make her angry.”

Andy nodded. “Something like that,” she said. “But I can’t say anything about it.” The Brazilian shrugged. “It seems she had a change of heart,” she said. “She was out of it with the divorce and her kids being away,” said Emily. “That probably had something to do with it.”

“Maybe,” replied Andy. “When we spoke, that last night, she reacted badly to what I said.” “What did you say to her?” asked Nicole, arching an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” mumbled Andy. “But what I can’t figure out is why she wants to see me now. I thought she hated me.”

“Obviously not,” said Emily. “Since she’s gone all doolally trying to find you.” Andy paused, a small bloom of hope rising in her chest.

_Could it be she’s changed her mind?_

Andy peered at Emily quizzically. “Do you think she’s still mad at me?” she asked.

“If anything, it seems the opposite of that,” replied Serena. “I think she misses you.” “Or at least a competent second assistant,” smirked Emily. “God knows the last few were dreadful.”

“Do you want us to let her know we’ve seen you?” asked Serena. “I’m not against it, I guess,” said Andy. “Just let me think about it, okay?”

“Well, think quick,” glared Emily. “I’ve had about of enough of Miranda’s moods. I swear, if this keeps up, I’ll lock the two of you in a closet and bin the key!”

“Não se preocupe, querida,” Serena whispered to Emily. “Just imagine what fun we’ll have when Andy sees Miranda again.”

Emily’s eyes sparkled, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh my god, Nicole, look at her,” said Andy. “She’s like your evil ginger twin.” The other women laughed.

* * *

 

Nicole and Andrea walked back to their apartment. The streetlights glowed a warm yellow in the darkness, the moon full overhead as they headed down the street. “That was fun,” said Andy, nudging Nicole with her shoulder. “Thanks for making me come out.”

“My pleasure,” replied Nicole. “You got to shake your nerves off, and I got you all to myself tonight.” Their hands trailed together. Andy took Nicole’s hand, weaving their fingers together.“I liked dancing with you, it felt really nice,” she said.

“Hmm, I’d like to do that again soon,” said Nicole. “I like it when you let loose like that. The way you move, the way you smile. Thank you for tonight, it made me really happy.”

“Yeah, I’m really glad we did that, too,” said Andy.

Nicole paused as they approached their apartment. She turned to Andy, her eyes warm. Her left hand cupped Andy’s cheek, her thumb gently stroking.

“What kind of date night would it be, without a kiss?” she whispered. She leaned in towards Andy, gently brushing her lips against the brunette’s. Andy responded, kissing back, then pulled away.

“Nicole,” Andy said. “I like this, but I don’t know if I’m ready…”

Nicole nodded. She grabbed Andy’s hands. “That’s okay,” she said. “I understand Andy. Just… think about it. I care about you. I’d like… I’d like the chance to be more than friends.”

Andy nodded. “I’ll think about it, I really will,” she said. “Can you give me some time?”

“Of course,” Nicole said. “Anything you need.” “C’mon, let’s go upstairs. I think I could use a nice hot chocolate about now,” winked Andy. “Ooh, with some marshmallows,” said Nicole, smiling. They walked, hand in hand, into the apartment building. 


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster at the book store.

Andy and Nicole walked up to the Century Building, on East 17th Street. Its concrete and brick façade trimmed with green and gold signs.  Andy wore a deep blue Armani knit dress, with slate Blahnik pumps. Nicole sported a red Dolce & Gabbana sleeveless dress with black Louboutin heels. They walked to the children’s section, to three display tables and backdrops set up for them. Fashion Girl books and products were on display.

“We’ve got about 30 minutes before we do the product reveal, and talk to the press and other guests,” said Nicole. “Dad will be here in a few minutes. But working the audience is going to be all you. This is your baby.”

“I hope I do okay,” replied Andy. “Your dad spent a lot of money setting this up, so I don’t want to disappoint him. I really appreciate the chance you guys have given me.”

“Not to worry, sweetie,” grinned Nicole. “You’ll have them eating out of your hand with those big brown eyes of yours.” “Yeah,” snickered Andy. “I’m just hoping I don’t throw up. Speaking of bathrooms, I better go pee before everyone gets here.”

“Oh, and I was just going to get us a nice big coffee,” snarked Nicole. “No way, I’m nervous enough as it is without caffeine,” said Andy.

Andy nervously sat at one of the display tables. Guests started to arrive for the release event, sitting in folding chairs set pout for them, or standing nearby. A lifestyle reporter from the New York Mirror set up, as well as teams from Teen Vogue and Girl’s Life.

Tim Maybourne eased next to Andy. “You alright Andy?” he asked. “Yes,” she replied. “Just a little nervous.” “Well you don’t need to be,” Tim said. “Just show them what you’ve done. The books speak for themselves. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Tim,” whispered Andy. “That means a lot. And thanks, for letting me do this.” “No thanks are necessary,” said Tim. “You’ve done a wonderful job, and I’ve gotten a great employee.” Andy smiled gratefully.

“We about ready?” she asked. “Yes,” nodded Tim. “I’ll do the introduction, then you’ll start the presentation. After that, you and Nicole will help people with questions and sales.”

Tim Maybourne checked the microphone, then began the introduction. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome, to the product launch of Maybourne Publishing’s Fashion Girl line of books and educational playthings,” he said.

“This new product line has been created by one of our assistant editors, Ms. Andrea Sachs.” Andrea rose, smiling to the guests. “Ms. Sachs has created books and educational playthings which are meant to teach young girls about fashion, and foster creativity and critical thinking skills.”

The reporter from the Mirror rose. “That sounds good, Mr. Maybourne,” he said. “But aren’t these really just coloring and sticker books? Just a dress up game for girls?” Andy spoke up. “I understand why you would think so, but no,” she said. “These books teach fashion history, wardrobe coordination, and how to draw fashion art,” Andy continued.

“Is this really something today’s young women will be interested in?” asked a reporter from Girl’s Life. “I think so,” said Andy. “Fashion is the art form we all live with each day, and it’s something I think young women want to explore and learn about,” replied Andy.

“Think about it this way. Fashion has both impacted on our world and been impacted by it, from the bloomers of the 1850’s, to Coco Chanel’s little black dress in the 1920’s, to the fashion of today,” said Andy. “It reworks and reinvents itself with each generation. It’s a living art constantly in tune with our times. Because if it wasn’t relevant, people wouldn’t wear it.”

“Okay,” said the reporter from Teen Vogue. “Are you doing anything else with this product line?” “We’re currently working on computer versions of each of the products,” said Andy. “I encourage you all to look at the samples and play with them and see what you think.” She stepped back and joined Nicole by the display tables.

The press and guests browsed the tables, looking at the samples. Nicole and Andy circulated, helping with questions. Two familiar red-heads stepped forward, eagerly pushing to the front. Caroline and Cassidy Priestly.

Andy smiled at them. “Hello girls, it’s good to see you,” she said. “What did you think of the presentation?”

“I thought it was great,” grinned Cassidy. “I love how you can learn about different designers and make different outfits with the clothes.” “The sketch books are cool,” offered Caroline. “I like how the stencils and templates help you to draw the clothing on your model.”

“How did you get here?” asked Andy. “Mom brought us,” replied Caroline. “She’s somewhere in the back, hiding. She was surprised when she saw you. I… I think she misses you a lot.” “Mom’s freaking out a bit,” said Cassidy. “She doesn’t know what to say to you. She knows she messed up with you.”

“I miss you guys,” said Andy softly. “But I don’t know if your mother and I are ready to talk yet. She really hurt me.”

“We really miss you, and want to see you again, Andy,” said Caroline. “Try to give mom a chance, you know how hopeless she is with feelings and stuff.” “I’ll try,” said Andy, smiling.

She took out a business card, writing on the back. “Here’s my cell phone number, you guys can call me when you want to talk, okay?” she said. “Just don’t let your mom know, yet.” The twins nodded. “We’re going to buy the books, we’ll let you know how we do with them,” said Cassidy.

Miranda Priestly stood by a small table, away from the sales tables. She flipped aimlessly through a coloring book, looking at designs from Chanel, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, and others. The books were clever, and beautifully made. But what lay on Miranda’s mind was their creator. Andrea Sachs. Lovely in a clingy blue knit dress that flattered her ample curves.

Miranda had been shocked to see her, suddenly breathless. Afraid to see her. Afraid of what that would mean. Would Andrea talk to her? Would she even look at her?

Miranda didn’t know. And that frightened her more than anything. Because she wasn’t in control. Because she was afraid of rejection. And it would be so easy for Andrea to reject her now, after what Miranda had done.

“Hello Miri,” a voice said. Miranda turned. A man stood behind her, in a black Versace suit. Hair graying, his blue eyes kindly.

“Hello Tim,” said Miranda. “It’s been a long time. A long time since I was a lowly assistant at Elle magazine, and you were writing features for Paris Match.”

“Indeed,” replied Maybourne. “You’ve done well for yourself.” “Not without sacrifices,” replied Miranda.

“There’s always that,” nodded Maybourne. “So, I see your children are here, but you’re not with them. Why is that?”

“I think you know why already,” said Miranda. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Miranda looked over to the tables. Andrea was smiling warmly at a pretty young redhead. “Andrea seems happy,” Miranda said.

“She’s better,” replied Maybourne. “But still missing something. Or someone, I might say.”

“Who is she with?” asked Miranda. “Her roommate,” Maybourne said. “Oh,” said Miranda, deflating. “Not that kind,” Maybourne said. “That’s my daughter, Nicole. They’re not involved. At least not yet.”

“Not yet?” queried Miranda. “Well, if you don’t do something, I’m sure Nicole will,” answered Maybourne. “Nikky’s smart enough to know Andy isn’t ready for that yet, I think.”

Miranda frowned. “Oh, why is that? Nicole is certainly beautiful enough,” she said.

“They are good friends, but there’s just one problem,” answered Maybourne. “What’s that?” asked Miranda. “Andy is in love with someone else,” answered Maybourne. “Is that so,” replied Miranda.

“Yes, a certain acerbic fashion editor,” smirked Maybourne. “By the way, since you are a fashion editor attending today’s function, I thought you’d like the contact information for our lovely Ms. Sachs. In case you needed to… talk.”

Maybourne handed over a slip of paper with a phone number and email address printed on it. “She still cares, Miri,” he said, voice gentle. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Th…thank you, Tim,” said Miranda, her voice small.

“We were good friends, once upon a time, Miri,” said Maybourne. “That girl cares about you, and you deserve to be the one who makes her happy.”

“You really think so?” asked Miranda. “That I deserve someone like her?”

Maybourne sighed. “A long time ago, in Paris, you thought Jacqueline was the one. And you got hurt,” said Maybourne. “But this girl, this girl is different. She could make your life very happy, Miri.”

Miranda nodded. “As long as I don’t ruin it again,” she said. “Then don’t,” replied Maybourne. “Go out there and get her.”

Andy stood at the display table, quietly cleaning up as the crowd dispersed. A familiar perfume tickled her senses. She looked up. Into Miranda Priestly’s eyes. “Hello,” said Miranda. She blushed, looking awkward. “I… I liked the presentation. The books are wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Hi Miranda,” Andy said, voice casual. “I saw the girls here earlier, it was nice to see them.” “Yes,” replied Miranda. “They missed you.” “I’m glad they came down,” replied Andy.

 “I missed you too… very much,” said Miranda. “Really,” said Andy. “In Paris you said you never wanted to see me again.” Miranda grimaced. “I know Andrea,” she said. “I was horrible, but I…”

“I don’t think I can listen to this,” said Andy, her voice flat.

“Andrea,” said Miranda. “I just wanted to say I’m…”

“No, Miranda,” said Andy, her voice straining. “Not now, I can’t do this.” “Andrea, please give me a chance, I know I was wrong,” pleaded Miranda. “I know I hurt you.”

Andy pulled away from the table. “No, Miranda,” said Andy. “I can’t talk to you.”

“Please,” begged Miranda. “Let me try to make things right.” Andy shook her head. “It’s too late for that, Miranda, I’m sorry,”

A tear rolled down Miranda’s cheek, dropping onto the books on the table below. “Please, Andrea,” whispered Miranda. “Give me one chance.”

Andy’s voice hardened. “Six months ago, I was the one crying. You broke my heart, Miranda. You left me with nothing, and you didn’t care,” said Andy. “Miranda, I… I don’t think I can see you again. Tell the girls I’m sorry.”

Andy turned and walked away, leaving the room. Caroline and Cassidy ran to Miranda, throwing their arms around her. One word fell from her lips.

“Lost,” was all she said.

Andy took a deep breath in the bookstore warehouse. Miranda’s torn face in her mind, the sight of her tears twisting painfully inside.

_It’s better off this way, She’ll just hurt me again, in the end._

A wave of sorrow rushed through her.

_Just like I hurt her now._

Nicole walked toward Andy, her face worried. “Are you sure you wanted to do that?” she asked. “You love her, don’t you?”

“Love isn’t always enough, though, is it?” Andy replied.

Andy’s cellphone buzzed. She the screen lit up, revealing a text. From Cassidy.

“Why Andy? Why?” she wrote. “I thought you loved her? Do you know what you’ve done?”

“No,” whispered Andy. “I don’t. I don’t know anything.” She walked away from Nicole, and out the back exit.

 

 


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy makes a big mistake.

The living room in the apartment was dark. The angular shapes of IKEA furniture muted in the gloom. Andy slumped on the couch. The glow of the television casting a pale light on her face. Andy’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears as she stared at the glass in her hand. A bottle of Cuervo silver sat on the coffee table. Pouring a drink, she tossed it back, grimacing as it burned down her throat.

Nicole sat down next to Andy, her eyes worried. “What are you doing?” she said. “You’re going to make yourself sick this way.”

“What does it matter? I can’t believe what Miranda did today.” replied Andy, slumping against Nicole. Feeling the liquor take over, distancing her from the shock of seeing Miranda again. “I’m so sick of this. Of the way she makes me feel. This hot and cold bullshit of hers.”

“Maybe you just need some time. Time to think about this, before you make a decision,” answered Nicole.

“I’m just so tired,” said Andy, clenching her jaw.  “You don’t have to decide what to do today, sweetie,” said Nicole. “Especially when you’ve been drinking.” Nicole played her fingers softly through Andy’s hair, letting her sink into a loose embrace.

“I don’t want to want her anymore,” said Andy. “You don’t have to,” replied Nicole. “But don’t torture yourself like this. Be sure of what you want to do.”

Andy shook her head roughly. “Doesn’t matter,” said Andy. “I’m sick this. Sick of these damn feelings. Sick of it all.”

“Maybe you should just talk to her,” Nicole said. “Just let her say what she needs to say.” Andy grimaced. “And have her change her mind again in another six months?” said Andy. “No thanks.”

“I don’t know Andy,” said Nicole. “Dad and Emily said she’s really been lost without you.” Andy sneered, rolling her eyes. “Good, now she knows what it feels like!” she said. “Maybe now she’ll think twice before she hurts someone again!”

“You’re hurting yourself as much as you’re hurting her, you know,” said Nicole. “How’s that?” asked Andy. “You’re sitting here alone, on a Saturday night, getting drunk. If it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t be doing this,” replied Nicole. “You wouldn’t give her a second thought.”

“Well, maybe it’s time I moved on from thinking about her,” said Andy. “Why should I care how she feels? She didn’t care about me in Paris.”

“It sounded like she was scared, Andy. I don’t think she realized what she’d done until it was too late,” Nicole replied.

“Exactly,” said Andy. “She’s too late. Six months too late. Why should her tears bother me now?”

Nicole frowned. “It seems like they do bother you,” she said. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” “But I don’t want to feel like this,” Andy said. “I don’t want care anymore.”

Nicole sighed. “I don’t know Andy,” she said. “You better be sure, because if you shut Miranda out, you may never get another chance.”

“Maybe I don’t want another chance,” said Andy. “Maybe I want something better. Someone better,” said Andy. “Don’t I deserve that?”

Andy leaned into Nicole, enjoying the other woman’s warmth. She leaned her head on Nicole’s shoulder, the scent of the redhead’s perfume rising from between her breasts.

Andy looked up at Nicole, her eyes running over her roommate’s face. “Maybe I need someone new to think about,” she said. “Someone that shows me they care. Someone that hasn’t hurt me. Someone that doesn’t push me away. Someone like… like you Nicole.” Andy met Nicole’s eyes, leaning forward.

Andy reached out one hand, twining her fingers in Nicole’s hair. Her lips ghosted against Nicole’s cheek. “Why couldn’t it be you?” she said.

Andy cupped Nicole’s cheek with her other hand. She kissed Nicole, pulling her close. Nicole responded, gasping as Andy’s lips moved against hers. Andy deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against the redhead’s. She slipped one hand beneath Nicole’s pajama top, gently stroking. Her fingers tingling against Nicole’s skin.

“Mm…I like the way you kiss,” whispered Andy. “See? See how good it could be? I don’t need Miranda when I’ve got you.”

“Andy, stop,” panted Nicole. “This isn’t right, this isn’t how I…”

Andy murmured into Nicole’s ear. “I can make you feel so good, Nikky. Just like you’ve wanted me to,” she said, her lips playing on Nicole’s throat.

“Please, Andy, not like this,” pleaded Nicole. Andy’s lips descended, her breath hot on Nicole’s breasts.

“You can have me, all for yourself,” murmured Andy, her voice thick with desire. “Don’t you want that?”

Andy fell backwards, hands shoving her hard. A loud crack sounded through the room. Andy recoiled from the slap, her cheek stinging. “What the hell is wrong with you? I said stop!” Nicole said. Her eyes blazed at Andy, seething. “How can you do that to me?”

“Nicole, I’m sorry, I…” babbled Andy.

“How can you say those things to me? How can you kiss me and touch me when you don’t mean it? When you’re thinking of her?” cried Nicole, eyes tearing.

“You know how I feel. You know,” said Nicole. “You know I wish it was me you wanted. But you don’t want me,” she said. “You just want an excuse to forget Miranda!”

“I didn’t mean to…” said Andy. “The hell you didn’t, Andy,” spat Nicole. “You can’t act this way. It’s not right, it’s not fair.”

Andy stared at Nicole, shrinking in on herself. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t lose you, too…”

“You need to make up your mind, Andy,” said Nicole. “If you love Miranda, then do something about it.”

Nicole shook her head, tears falling freely. “I don’t want to be a rebound for you. I don’t want to be second best. I don’t want to break my heart loving you if you’ll never feel the same!”

Andy reached out for Nicole, a wave of shame overcoming her. “Nicole, I shouldn’t have…” she said. Nicole glared at Andy.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she snapped. “Please don’t hate me,” said Andy. “You’re my best friend. I just thought…”

“Thought what, Andy?” Nicole said, her voice harsh. “That fucking me would make Miranda go away? That it would solve everything?”

“I do love you, Nicole, I do,” said Andy.

“Yes, as a friend,” replied Nicole. “Not a lover. Not the one you really want. And I can’t lie to myself about that. Even though you’re the one I want.”

Andy’s voice broke. “I’m so pathetic,” she said, hanging her head. “You’re the only one who’s been there for me, and all I do is hurt you in return.”

Nicole sighed. She looked at Andy, her face wistful. She shook her head. “You can’t avoid this anymore, Andy. You can’t,” Nicole said. “You need to decide how you feel about Miranda.”

“I know,” said Andy. “But I’m scared.”

“If you let fear guide you, you’ll never have what you want,” said Nicole. “Sometimes you just have to be brave and try your best. At least you won’t be left wondering about what might have been.”

 “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, though,” Andy said. She shook her head. “If this is going to be a problem, I can stay at a friend’s house.”

“You are at a friend’s house, Andy,” replied Nicole. “But, what about…” started Andy.

Nicole stopped her. “I’m a big girl, Andy. My feelings aren’t something you should be concerned about now,” Nicole said.

Andy lowered her eyes. “Nicole, I’m sorry,” she said.

“I know,” said Nicole.

”I’m such an idiot,” Andy mumbled.

“Andy, I don’t want you out of my life,” said Nicole. “I was your friend before I fell in love with you. And I want to stay your friend, no matter what else happens.”

“I want that too,” said Andy. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” said Nicole. “No matter what you decide.”

“And what about you?” asked Andy.

Nicole looked at Andy, her eyes soft.

“I love you, Andy,” said Nicole. “I love you. And all I can do is let you know that. But that doesn’t mean you have to love me back. You have to find your own happiness, and not worry about mine.”

“So, what do I do?” asked Andy, her face forlorn.

“Listen to your heart and be honest with yourself,” said Nicole. “If it leads you to Miranda, I’ll live. If it leads you back to me, I’ll be here.”

Nicole smiled at Andy, tears shimmering in her eyes. She rose from the couch and walked to her bedroom. The sound of the door locking behind her loud in the silent room.

 

 


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda tries to reach Andy.

Miranda sat at her writing desk, peering at the letter before her. Perhaps the most important thing she’d ever written. And the riskiest. It lay her bare, with no place to hide or run to. All her feelings, all her mistakes were exposed. If she sent this, it gave Andy the power to destroy her completely.

“You wanted a grand gesture, eh, Nigel?” she thought. “Well, here it is.” She read the letter. 

Andrea-

Please don’t toss this letter away, not yet. Not without reading it first. Please...   

I have missed you, missed you so much.

I cannot believe I let you leave my side for one moment, much less these last six months.

I know it’s foolish to ask for another chance with you, after what I’ve done.

But my heart begs me to try. 

You did so much, in so many little ways, to show me how you cared.

You tried your best, each day, to bring me a little happiness.

And I ruined it.   

When I was at my lowest, you offered my heart solace, shelter, and unconditional love.

And I rejected it.

Even though I hungered for it, for you, deep inside.

Because I was afraid.

Because I was weak.

Because I was a fool. 

I have no excuse, other than cowardice, for my actions.

And my punishment has been your absence.

Your light I grew to love so much. 

Although I don’t deserve it, I hope one day you’ll forgive me.

For I can’t forgive myself.

For if there’s one thing I wish I could erase, it would be that moment in Paris.

The moment I took your honest feelings and left them broken. 

I’m sorry.  

\- Miranda

 

Miranda sighed. It wasn’t eloquent, but maybe at least it was honest. Maybe something in it would reach Andrea. Maybe she would allow Miranda a tiny chance. If not, then at least she still had the girls. If this failed, she would devote what remained of her heart to them. She folded the letter, placing it carefully into a vellum envelope, sealing it. She addressed it and added postage. Done. She would mail it when she walked Patricia in the park today.

Caroline and Cassidy entered the study. Miranda turned, as they regarded her.

“Mom, are you alright?” asked Caroline. Miranda nodded. “Yes, I was just writing a letter,” she said.

“To Andy?” asked Cassidy. “Why are you bothering? Don’t give her another chance to hurt you.”

“I hurt her first,” replied Miranda. “I broke her heart and destroyed her career. I think she’s entitled to be angry with me.”

“Maybe,” said Cassidy. “But she could have talked to you, at least.”

Miranda sighed. “Sometimes it’s hard to talk to people that have hurt you, especially if you cared about them,” she said.

“So, what is it,” asked Caroline. “A love letter?”

“More like a very overdue apology, with a lot of groveling,” smirked Miranda.

“Hey, groveling is good,” replied Caroline. “At least it will show her she’s more important than your pride.”

“Pride,” said Miranda. “A lot of good that’s done me. The only thing I have to be proud about are you two girls. Certainly not my behavior, especially to Andy.”

“But you love her,” said Cassidy.

Miranda shook her head. “I didn’t allow myself to feel it until it was too late,” said Miranda. “I thought it was foolish to hope. I was so afraid that people would use my feelings against me.” Miranda leaned hard against her desk, her head sagging.

“Mom, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone that makes you happy,” replied Cassidy.

“Do I really?” asked Miranda. “I doubt many people would agree with you.”

“Because they don’t know you like we do,” answered Caroline.

“Is that their fault, or mine?” Miranda said. She moved to the couch, sinking heavily down upon it. Her daughters plopped down next to her.

“Other than you girls, I can count the people I hold dear on the fingers of one hand. I can’t blame that all on work. It has to be me.”

“Andy isn’t like everyone else,” said Cassidy. “She understood you, she accepted you. She didn’t want you to change.”

“Yes, and look where that got her,” answered Miranda. “I hurt her, when she was at her most vulnerable.”

“You have to try, mom,” said Cassidy. “Make her understand how you feel. Get her to listen.”

“I want to try. I just hope it’s not too late,” sighed Miranda, looking at her daughters. “I hope there’s still a chance she’ll listen to me. That she’ll allow me to win back her trust.”

“You don’t think she loves you anymore,” said Caroline, her voice quiet.

“That’s likely,” replied Miranda. “I did something horrible to her. That’s hard to fix with just an apology.”

“Aren’t you going to try get her back?” asked Cassidy.

Miranda shook her head. “At this point I’d settle for just being friends,” she said softly.

“Don’t settle, mom,” said Cassidy, hugging her mother. “Not again. Tell her how you feel. Try with all your might.”

“You really think that’ll work?” asked Miranda.

“Why not,” said Cassidy, grinning. “Isn’t the dragon supposed to sweep the princess off her feet, literally?”

“Aren’t you forgetting what happens to the dragon in all those fairy tales?” smirked Miranda.

“Yes,” nodded Cassidy. “She lived happily ever after.”

“I hope so, Bobbsey,” said Miranda. “I hope so.”

Cassidy and Caroline hugged Miranda. She smiled, her eyes wet, knowing that there was love, at least here with her daughters.

Even if Andrea didn’t love her anymore.

 

 


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy gets a letter. Nigel goes out for drinks...again.

Andy walked to her mailbox. The usual bills and junk mail flyers inside. And a letter. With a very familiar address. Miranda’s address. Andy felt her pulse quicken. She tucked the mail into her purse and went outside. She needed to clear her head. She didn’t want to read the letter where Nicole might see her. Andy had already made a mess of things with her roommate. Andy cursed her stupidity. No amount of tequila in the world was an excuse for what she’d done.

Andy walked down from Gold Street, to the waterfront. The South Street Seaport bustled with tourists and Wall Street professionals having lunch. Pausing on the wharf, she opened the letter from Miranda. She unfolded it, taking a breath, and started to read. A gust of wind rattled the page, nearly tearing it from her hand. She clutched it tightly, letting the words sink in. She gasped, tears suddenly clouding her eyes. An ache in her chest squeezing tightly.

_She wants a chance, she wants me… What do I do? What do I say to her?_

She folded the letter up, putting it in her purse again. _What should I do now?  I don’t know…_

Andy pulled out her phone, speed dialing a number. It picked up on the third ring. A familiar voice answered.

“Nigel,” said Andy. “It’s Andy Sachs, I need… I need to talk to you. Can you meet me downtown?”

“Six, is this about Miranda?” he answered.

“Yes,” replied Andy. “I need some advice… I screwed up, and I don’t know what I should do.”

“Okay,” said Nigel. “I understand. Where do you want to meet, your apartment?”

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea right now,” answered Andy. “The Bridge Café, on Water Street. I’ll be at the bar.”

“Sure,” said Nigel. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Andy sat at the bar, nursing a Corona as Nigel entered the restaurant. He sat beside Andy. “So, what happened?” he asked.

“Miranda was at the product reveal, for my books. It didn’t go well,” said Andy. “She apologized, and I told her off. I said that I couldn’t see her again,” she said.

“She wasn’t expecting you to be there,” Nigel answered. “It was a surprise for her.”

“For me too,” said Andy. “I lost it and acted terribly. I walked out on her while she was crying.”

Nigel nodded. “She knew the risks of seeing you again,” he said. “She knows she hurt you badly, and that you might not forgive her.”

“It’s just hard Nigel,” said Andy. “I still care for her.” She met his eyes. “I love her, but I don’t know if I trust her.”

“I know,” Nigel replied. “She did something unforgiveable in Paris, and she’s regretted it ever since.”

“I get that she regrets her actions,” said Andy. “But can I really start a relationship with her after that?”

“I don’t know Six,” replied Nigel. “That’s for you to decide. Do you love her enough to want to try?”

“Maybe,” said Andy. “I don’t know. Then there’s the whole mess with Nicole.”

“Nicole?” queried Nigel.

“My roommate, and my boss’ daughter,” replied Andy. “I did something horrible. I tried to get her into bed, because I couldn’t handle things with Miranda.”

“What happened with Nicole?” said Nigel. “I really hurt her, Nigel,” said Andy. “She’s in love with me. I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” asked Nigel.

“I love Miranda, but I also care a lot about Nicole,” Andy replied. “And Nicole hasn’t hurt me the way Miranda has.”

Nigel sighed. “I understand it’s going to be hard to trust Miranda,” he said. “If you can’t, then it might be best for you to walk away.”

“You think so?” asked Andy. Nigel held up his hands. “I’m not telling you to reject Miranda, or accept Nicole,” he said. “You have to decide if you want one of them, or neither. It’s your choice.”

“How?” asked Andy.

“You have to decide who you want in your heart, and your life,” said Nigel. “Be fair to both of them. Make a decision and stand by it. Anything less would be cruel.” 

“If you need a new place to stay, I have a spare room in my flat,” said Nigel. “I won’t tell Miranda where you are.”

Andy shook her head. “I’ll have to think about it,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone more than I already have.”

Nigel shrugged. “Someone’s going to be hurt, Andy,” he said. “There’s no way around that.

“I know,” replied Andy. “I just wish it didn’t have to be that way.”

Andy stood on the rooftop of her apartment on Gold Street, looking up at the sky. The sun had set, a fading red haze below the horizon, as the stars began to come out. The moon lit the rooftop garden in silvery light. Andy’s mind wheeled with images. Miranda. Nicole. A couch in Paris.

What do I do, she thought. Where do I go from here?

The North star flickered overhead, pulling at the strings of memory. She whispered the words to a nursery rhyme, as she gazed upwards, hoping for some guidance, some sign. Something to guide her weary heart to where it should belong.

 

Star light, star bright,

The first star I see tonight;

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight.

 

“Please,” she whispered. “Please someone, help me. Help me figure out the right thing to do. I’m... I’m just so lost.”

“Help me choose the right thing, so I don’t hurt anymore. So I don’t hurt anyone else, either. Please.”

Andy looked at the star, shining in the indigo sky. The moon’s light glittering on the tears that tracked down her face.

 


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea, sympathy, and shopping therapy.

Emily Charlton stood in front of the apartment on Gold Street. The Sunday morning streets were quiet, the sun shining lazily down between clouds. Walking inside, she took the lift up to the fifth floor. Coming to number 503, she knocked on the door. Footsteps behind the door approached, and the door opened. A weary looking Nicole answered.

“Oh, hello Emily,” greeted Nicole. “Come in, Andy’s not here right now, would you like to wait? I can put on some tea.”

“The tea sounds lovely,” answered Emily. “But I didn’t come here to see Andy.”

“Oh, why then?” queried Nicole.

“I came to see you,” Emily replied.

“Let me put on the kettle,” said Nicole. She walked towards the kitchen, Emily following.

“I’ll help,” Emily said. “Can I make us some toast?”

“Yeah, that’d be super,” answered Nicole. “The bread’s over on the counter.” She gestured towards a wooden box next to the toaster. Emily retrieved the bread and loaded the toaster. Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out butter and strawberry jam.

Nicole eyed Emily. “So, why are you here?” she asked.

“I thought you might like a friend to talk to," said Emily. "About what happened between you and Andy.”

“Did she tell you?” asked Nicole.

“No,” replied Emily. “But I’ve known Andy for a while. I knew something was up. That she’d done something to hurt you,” she answered, leaning against the kitchen island. “I’m sorry.”

Nicole shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said. “The day we released the new books something bad happened,” Nicole said. “Miranda showed up. She tried to apologize to Andy.”

“What happened?” asked Emily.

“Andy blew up. She stormed out of there, and left Miranda crying," said Nicole. "That night Andy got drunk. She wanted me to go to bed with her.”

“Did you?” asked Emily. “No,” said Nicole. “I wanted to, I really did. But I knew it wasn’t me she wanted. Not really.”

“I’m sorry,” said Emily. “That’s hard to take, from someone you love.”

“So, you know,” said Nicole, gazing at Emily.

“Yes, it wasn’t hard to figure out,” said Emily. “I could see it. In the way you smiled at her. From the look on your face each time your eyes met. How you glowed each time you touched her. I can’t imagine she didn’t know.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to,” said Nicole. “Maybe it was easier for her to ignore it.”

Emily nodded. “Perhaps, but she could’ve been a better friend.”

“It was stupid of me to fall for her, when I knew she loved Miranda," said Nicole.

“Sometimes there’s no sense to what the heart wants,” answered Emily. “I know how it is to fall in love with a friend.”

Nicole looked at Emily, interested. Emily blushed. “About a year ago, I had the biggest crush on Serena,” Emily said. “More than a crush, really. I fell in love with her.”

“I can understand why. She’s very charming, and beautiful,” said Nicole, nodding.

“Yes, I had it bad,” Emily said, smiling gently.

“What did you do?” asked Nicole.

The toaster pinged. Emily pulled the hot toast from the machine, slicing it, and laying it out on a plate. “For months I was a mess whenever she was around,” said Emily. “Blushing and sighing over her. It drove Nigel mad. Finally, I worked up the nerve to ask her out.”

“What happened?” asked Nicole. “We went dancing, and we had a great time. When we left, I walked her back to her place. Then I kissed her.”

“I guess that didn’t go over well, huh?” said Nicole. “Oh, it wasn’t horrible, Serena was very sweet,” Emily said. “She thanked me for a wonderful evening, and said she loved me, as a friend. My heart fell into little itty-bitty pieces as soon as I heard that.”

“Was it hard, working with her, after that?” Nicole asked.

“A little,” answered Emily, taking a sip of tea. “For a couple of months, I had a hard time going out with the others for drinks or dancing. I’m sure they all knew.”

“I can relate to that,” answered Nicole.

Emily smirked. “I even got desperate and dated a couple of guys, just so I wouldn’t feel so alone,” she said. “I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with them, though, just… no.”

Nicole chuckled. “Yeah, no thanks, I’d pass on that too,” she said.

Nicole finished the tea. She set two cups on the kitchen island, pouring for her and Emily. Emily passed Nicole a plate, and they split the toast, spreading jam and butter on the warm bread.

Emily crunched into a piece. “I just wanted to let you know, that it’s okay to feel sad, or angry, or whatever it is you need to feel,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m here, okay?”

“Thanks,” replied Nicole, taking a bite of her toast. “I’d like that. It’d be nice to have a friend to talk to, that understands, you know?”

“I know,” said Emily. “God knows I needed Nigel, when I went through that.” The women sipped their tea, enjoying their breakfast.

“Thanks,” said Nicole. “I’m glad you came.”

“Are you doing anything today?” asked Emily.

Nicole paused, looking at the other redhead. “What do you have in mind?”

“A bit of shopping therapy,” grinned Emily. “We could nip up to the Village and hit the stores and thrifts.”

Nicole chuckled. “That sounds good, I’m in,” she replied, clinking her teacup against Emily’s.

* * *

Nicole and Emily scoured the cramped fashion thrift store on 1st Avenue, looking through racks of jumbled dresses, skirts, and outerwear.

“Hmm,” said Emily. “Most of these aren’t my style, but, maybe this one…” She pulled out an older Vivienne Westwood dress, in a green and black geometric pattern. Nicole opened up the curtains of the tiny dressing room. She modeled a black leather miniskirt for Emily.

“It’s a Helmut Lang. What do you think?” she asked.

Emily studied her friend.

_Gorgeous. That makes her legs look so long._

Nicole turned. The skirt molded to her form, flattering her hips and rear.

_Holy shit. She looks incredible._

“Definitely get that,” Emily coughed. “You look fantastic, it really makes your legs look great.”

Nicole smiled happily. “Did you find something?” she asked.

“I found this Westwood, in green,” Emily replied, biting her lower lip.

“Well, come on, try it on,” encouraged Nicole. “I want to see what you look like.”

Emily carried the dress over to the dressing room. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said to Nicole.

Emily quickly shed her skirt and blouse, putting on the Westwood. It fit, clinging to her curves, showing them off. Emily opened the curtains.

She twirled in front of Nicole, with a grin. “Does this look okay?” she asked.

Nicole looked her up and down. A pink blush grew on her face. “You look beautiful,” she said. “It shows off your figure perfectly.”

“Uhm, thanks,” replied Emily. “You like it?” Nicole nodded. “Oh yeah, it’s wonderful,” she said.

“Then I’m definitely getting it,” answered Emily.

Emily ducked back into the dressing room and changed. She held onto her new dress as she waited for Nicole to change. “Uh, Emily?” Nicole called from her stall. “I’m having a bit of trouble with the zipper here.”

“Just a second,” answered Emily. She ducked her head to look in on Nicole. “You all right?” she asked.

“I’m not used to this piece,” replied Nicole. “The zipper’s stuck, and I can’t quite get it.”

“Let me help,” said Emily. She slipped into the dressing room, beside Nicole. 

Emily looked at the Nicole’s skirt. The zipper was stuck in the back and would not budge. “Here,” said Emily. She grasped the waistband of the skirt, flattening the zipper, easing it down.

The miniskirt slipped from Nicole’s hips to the floor. Nicole stepped from the skirt, clad in only a black t-shirt and a pair of red lace La Perla panties. Emily stared at Nicole, her face heating.

Nicole turned to face Emily, a smile on her face. “Thanks,” she said. “I glad we did this.”

“Good,” Emily answered, her face crimson. “I’ll just wait outside.” Emily paid for her dress at the cash register while Nicole changed. Nicole joined her and paid for her skirt.

“Shall we?” asked Nicole, with a grin. “How about we get some lunch?”

“Sure,” answered Emily. “There’s a pretty good sushi place around the corner.”

“Sounds great,” smiled Nicole.

* * *

 Nicole sat in the restaurant next to Emily, popping a California roll into her mouth. “Thanks so much for today, I really had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” said Emily. “I liked exploring all those little stores with you. We should do it again soon.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” said Nicole. You really helped me get out of my funk today.”

Emily smiled. “Good, I’m glad I could help,” she said. “But I really did enjoy spending the time with you.”

Nicole chuckled. “At least I didn’t sit around the house today, gorging on ice cream and feeling sorry for myself,” she said.

“You shouldn’t, you know,” answered Emily. “Feel sorry for yourself. You’re smart, and funny and fun to be around. Not to mention totally lush, I mean lovely.”

Nicole turned her head, blushing. “Thanks,” she said. “So, what next?”

“After we eat, I thought I’d walk you back home, if that’s okay?” said Emily.

“Yeah,” nodded Nicole. “That’d be great, thanks. Oh, before I forget, here’s my number, in case you want to call or do something.” Nicole passed a slip of paper over to Emily.

Emily pulled the sales receipt from her pocket and wrote her number on the back.“Here’s mine,” she said, handing it to Nicole. “I’d love to… uh, go out and… do stuff again,” she said awkwardly. Nicole smiled.

 


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date with Miranda.

Andy sat at the South Street Seaport, on a park bench overlooking the water. She picked up her phone and dialed the number. One she’d saved on her phone. Miranda’s private line. Miranda answered on the second ring.

“Andrea,” she said. “Thank you for calling. I didn’t know if you would.”

“I didn’t either,” replied Andy. “I got your letter. I read it.”

“That’s good, I’m glad,” answered Miranda, her voice catching. “If nothing else, I wanted you to know how I really feel, and how sorry I am.”

“I understand,” said Andy, taking a deep breath. “I’ve decided to give it a chance.”

“Really?” said Miranda, her voice filled with hope. “You will?”

“Yes, I will,” Andy said. “Let’s go on a date and see how it goes.”

“Alright,” answered Miranda. “When, and what would you like to do?”

“Tomorrow. How about dinner and conversation, and maybe take a walk together,” said Andy.

“Is there someplace you would like to go?” asked Miranda.

“Let’s keep it simple,” said Andy. “Smith & Wollensky, tomorrow night at eight p.m., okay?”

“That sounds wonderful,” replied Miranda. “Thank you. I can’t wait.”

“I don’t know if this will work, or even if my feelings are what they used to be,” said Andy. “But I think we owe it to ourselves to try. So at least we can get some closure.”

“Yes,” said Miranda. “I’m glad you’re letting me have this chance.”

“It’s not just for you, Miranda,” answered Andy. “It’s for me, too. I have too many questions that I still want an answer to.

“Like what?” asked Miranda.

“A lot of things. Would it have worked? Would we have been good together? Do I… do I still love you?” answered Andy.

Andy entered Smith & Wollensky steakhouse on 49th street, passing through the dark green and white entrance. Checking the reservation, she followed a server to the second floor of the restaurant. She led Andy to a small round table in the back corner of the room.

Miranda stood, waiting, in a black v-neck Versace cocktail dress, with matching black heels. Andy approached, wearing a beige Ralph Lauren midi-dress with Jimmy Choo sandals.

Andrea stared nervously at Miranda. Her bright silver hair, her cobalt eyes. The bare ivory column of her throat, the swell of her breasts. Her long legs, shown off by the dress.

“Sit down, Andrea,” said Miranda. “I’m very happy you’re here.”

Andy nodded, slightly nervous. “Me too,” she replied. “I had to toss my whole closet to find something to wear. I’m kind of nervous.”

“You look lovely,” said Miranda. “Your makeup is perfect.”

“Serena helped me with the makeup,” said Andy. “I was a wreck getting ready.”

“She did just enough to highlight how beautiful you are, without doing too much,” answered Miranda.

“That cocktail dress looks wonderful on you,” said Andy, gazing at Miranda’s long legs. “I’ve never seen you like this before, but it looks fantastic.”

“Thank you,” smiled Miranda. “Shall we order something?”

“Yes, please,” answered Andy.

A server appeared, a young blonde woman, her hair in a neat ponytail. She smiled at the pair. “May I help you ladies?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Miranda. “First please bring us a bottle of Veuve Clicquot brut, to start with.”

“Would you like to order your meals now?” asked the woman.  

“Please,” replied Miranda. “Andrea, after you.”

Andy peered at the menu, quickly choosing. “I’ll start with the house salad, dressing on the side. For dinner I’ll have the Dover Sole Meuniere, with a side of sautéed spinach.

“Excellent miss,” replied the server. “For you, Ms. Priestly?” the woman queried.

“I’ll also have the house salad, with the dressing on the side," said Miranda. For my entrée, I’ll have the Filet Mignon Au Poivre, medium rare. With a baked potato, please.”

“Very good,” the server replied, leaving for the kitchen.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” said Miranda. “I know I wronged you. I appreciate you giving me a second chance.”

“A chance for what, Miranda,” answered Andy. “I want things spelled out.”

“I want a chance to… court you,” replied Miranda. “To show you my feelings are real.”

Andy flushed, her heart pounding. “What do you mean, exactly?” said Andy.

“I mean that I… care for you,” said Miranda. “I think I’ve been slowly falling in love with you, even before the divorce.”

“Is that so?” replied Andy, cocking an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you show me that in Paris?” Andy asked.

Miranda hung her head. She shrugged. “I was afraid,” she said, her voice subdued. “Afraid of the press, afraid about the divorce, afraid of what my girls would think.”

“Why was that?” answered Andy.

“Because I was frightened of how people would react. To me being with a girl half my age.”

“Were you afraid of being outed?” asked Andy. “Yes, at first,” Miranda said. “Especially since I couldn’t speak to my daughters.”

“Have you ever had feelings for a woman before, Miranda?” said Andy.

Miranda toyed idly with her glass. “Once,” replied Miranda. “Many years ago. When I worked in Paris.”

“Who?” asked Andy.

“Someone you’ve met, actually,” answered Miranda. “We were together, for a little while.”

“How did you meet?” asked Andy, curious.

“I was a fashion assistant at Elle magazine, and she was just starting out, at the time. Younger than me, and very beautiful,” said Miranda.

 “What happened?” replied Andy.

“I loved her. But she didn’t feel the same way,” Miranda answered. “For her… it was just a casual thing. It didn’t last.”

Andy frowned. “You say I’ve met her, that I know her?”

“Yes, you met her in Paris,” said Miranda. “Jacqueline Follet.”

“Jacqueline?” replied Andy. “You seemed to despise the woman.”

“Sometimes bitterness is hard to let go of,” answered Miranda. “Especially when someone you loved becomes an enemy.”

The salad course came. The women ate in companionable silence, enjoying the fresh greens and tart, citrusy vinaigrette. “After I left, in Paris, what happened?” queried Andy.

“I realized what a fool I was,” replied Miranda.  “I missed you. Your faced, your smile, the little things you did for me.” Miranda paused, meeting Andy’s eyes. "I realized that it didn’t matter that you were a woman, or that you were younger. What mattered to me was that you were you.”

“What does that mean?” asked Andy.

“It means I want you to be a part of my world, every day. It means I’ll do anything I can to have you back,” replied Miranda.

“Nigel said you’d been looking for me,” Andy said.

“Yes,” replied Miranda. “To try to fix things, or at least ask your forgiveness. I hated myself for hurting you.”

“What did Nigel say to you about us?” asked Andy. “

"He told me to stop being my usual self, and just be a woman in love,” answered Miranda.

“Is that what this is?” queried Andy.

“Yes,” replied Miranda. “I think it is.”

Andy paused, chocolate eyes probing Miranda’s. “If you’d opened your heart to me in Paris, this would’ve been easier,” said Andy. “But the past few months have been… hard. I don’t know if I can trust those words now.”

Miranda nodded. “I understand,” she said, taking Andy’s hand gently. “I don’t want to come across as needy, and I don’t want you to think this is all about me. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same anymore.”

“What do you want?” asked Andy.

Miranda smiled. “I want you,” she said. “Just you. I want a chance to prove myself to you.”

Andy looked at Miranda, meeting her blue eyes. Reading the sincerity graven on her face. “It’ll take time,” said Andy. “The trust, I mean. I want to believe you, but I’m afraid. I want to guard my heart. Because I don’t think I could bear it if you hurt me again.”

“I will, you know,” replied Miranda. “Hurt you. But not intentionally, never again. We’ll have our fights and arguments. But I want you to believe your happiness is important to me.”

“Why?” asked Andy. “Because you make me happy,” answered Miranda. “Just the thought of you makes me happier than I ever expected I could be.”

“Really?” asked Andy. “Yes, really,” replied Miranda. “I understand now. Being with you is more important than what people say or think.”

Their meals arrived. Andy smiled, enjoying her sole, tantalized by hints of lemon and butter in the delicate fish. Miranda sliced into her pepper encrusted steak, a perfect medium rare. A gentle smile playing on her face as she met Andy’s eyes.  

“This is nice,” said Miranda. “Being like this, just sharing a meal. I like it.”

“Yes,” said Andy. “I’m glad I came. It’s nice to spend time with you, just doing something simple.”

“I want to get to know you,” said Miranda. “To talk, and walk, and learn all the little things that make you who you are.”

“I’d like that,” replied Andy. “I want to know you better, too. I’d like to see the you behind the glamorous façade.”

“You might be disappointed,” cautioned Miranda.

“I don’t think so,” said Andy. “I’m curious. I want to know so many things about you, Miranda.”

“Miriam,” answered Miranda. “My given name is Miriam Princhek. Not quite as glamorous as the one I adopted.”

“Names don’t matter,” replied Andy. “What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.” Andy smiled at Miranda. “You’re you, regardless of the name. You’re who I want to know.”

“Quoting Romeo and Juliet,” grinned Miranda. “Does that mean I have a chance, or that we’re doomed to tragedy?” The pair laughed together, clasping hands across the table.

Miranda and Andy finished their meal. Miranda gazed at Andy. “What would you like to do now?” she asked. “Would you like to go somewhere, or shall I have Roy drive you home?”

“Could we take a walk somewhere?” asked Andy.

“Of course,” said Miranda. “Where would you like?”

“Somewhere near Central Park, up by where you live?” Andy requested.

“Acceptable,” nodded Miranda. “We’ll have Roy drop us off on 5th Avenue, by the park.

“Good,” said Andy, smiling.

* * *

Andy walked beside Miranda, heading up 5th Avenue from 73rd street. She could see the lights of the Metropolitan Museum of Art ahead in the distance. The conservatory pond was on their left as they headed uptown. A cars and cabs bustled down the street, their headlamps leaving waves of light and shadow that rolled down the sidewalk.

Andy walked, brown eyes resting on her companion, wordless. Her hair stirred in the evening breeze as they strolled, her lips curving gently as she glanced at Miranda. “This is good,” she said. “It’s nice just having you near.”

Miranda nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It is.” She gently took Andrea’s hand, twining their fingers together.

“I used to visit here sometimes,” said Andy. “I’d go to the Metropolitan, and just stare for hours at the things on display. “I’d wonder about all the people who made those things, long ago, and what they’d seen.”

“Hmm,” said Miranda. “I’d take the girls to the museum sometimes, on the weekends. To look at the paintings, or the ancient artifacts. Caroline used to love to take her sketchbook and try to draw the things she saw. Cassidy loved the arms and armor exhibit and imagined herself a knight.” 

“Never a princess?” grinned Andy.

“No, she decided that sitting in a castle all day was no fun,” replied Miranda. “But if she was the knight, and you were the dragon…” began Andy.

“Yes,” smirked Miranda. “You have no idea how many times she’d chase me around the townhouse with that scene in mind. Since Cassidy wouldn’t play the princess, poor Patricia had to stand in.” Andy laughed, thinking of ‘Princess Patricia’, Miranda’s Saint Bernard.

They reached the steps of the museum. The glow of the streetlamps glimmering in their eyes as they faced one another. “Well, I suppose it’s getting late,” said Miranda. “I’ll call Roy and have him pick us up. He can give you a ride back home.”

“No, that’s okay,” answered Andy. “I can get a cab from here, it’s safe.”

Miranda nodded. “Andrea, I had a lovely time, I hope…”

Andy stopped her. “Yes,” she said. “I want to do this again. I liked getting to see more of the real you, the one you don’t show everyone else.”

Miranda blushed lightly. “That’s… that’s good,” she said. “I’m glad.”

“How about Saturday?” asked Andy. “We could do a picnic by the boat pond in the park. That’s close by.”

Miranda smiled. “Yes, if you’ll let me prepare the meal.”  she said.

“Agreed,” said Andy. “I’ll bring the dessert. Something decadently chocolate.”

“It’s a date,” Miranda said. “Good,” replied Andy, smiling.

“Thank you, I had a nice time,” said Andy. She gently pressed her lips to Miranda’s. She tugged Miranda close, her arms around the editor’s waist. Miranda leaned closer into Andy, responding to the kiss.

Andy sighed, lips opening. Her tongue gently traced the seam of Miranda’s mouth. Miranda sighed, letting Andy in. Gentle kisses deepened as they held each other, eyes hazing with desire. Andy stepped back, her face flushed, breath ragged.

“Wow,” she said. “Just, wow.”

“Indeed,” replied Miranda, a shy smile on her face. “I think I’ve found my new favorite thing to do.”

"Ýeah,” breathed Andy. She took Miranda’s hand, walking to the cab stand. “I’ll get a ride here,” she said. “I’ll call you.”

Miranda nodded, as Andy got into a taxi. She watched it disappear into a small dot of yellow, down 5th Avenue.


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Runway gang catches up. Emily decides to make a move.

Andy walked into Henrietta Hudson. Scanning the bar, she saw Nigel nursing a dirty martini, flanked by Emily and Serena. “Hey,” she said, nodding to the group. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long?”

“No,” replied Nigel. “We’ve just been getting a head-start on the evening.” “Since your date with her, Miranda’s seemed different,” said Nigel.

“Well, different as Miranda can be,” Emily added. “A lot less Maleficent around the office, if you know what I mean.”

“I suppose that means your rendezvous was a success, Andy,” smirked Serena.

“What did you lot do on the date?” asked Emily.

“We had dinner, then took a walk,” said Andy. “It was nice.”

“What happened after you took your walk?” said Nigel, waggling his eyebrows. “Any dragon wrangling, or wrestling, as the case may be?”

“Jeez, Nigel, it was just our first date!” replied Andy, blushing.

“Besides, doesn’t that other stuff wait until the third date?” smirked Emily.

“Are you going to go out again soon?” asked Serena.

“Yes,” answered Andy. “On Saturday. We’re going to have a picnic.”

“Oh, where are you going?” asked Emily. “Central Park, near the boat pond. It’s not too far away from Miranda’s house,” replied Andy.

“Sounds romantic,” grinned Serena. “Since Miranda wants to make the food, I don’t want it to be too far away,” answered Andy.

“How are you feeling about dating Miranda?” asked Nigel.

“So far, it’s been lovely,” answered Andy. “She’s trying hard and being very sweet.” “The press a problem?” Nigel queried. “No more than usual,” replied Andy. “They took some pictures of us, but Miranda ignored them.”

“Well, you’re going to have your hands full on Saturday. At least I hope so,” winked Serena.

“What are the rest of you doing this weekend?” asked Andy.

“Oh, one of the new models asked me out,” replied Serena. “I thought we might get a group together and go out. Are you free Emily, Nigel?”

“Of course,” said Nigel. “Sounds good to me.” Serena turned to the redhead. “Emily, how about you?” she asked.

Emily shook her head. “Uh, no, actually,” Emily replied. “I’m going to spend time with a friend on Saturday.”

“A friend, or a _friend?_ ” grinned Andy. “Is it a date?”

“Well, no, not really,” answered Emily. “But maybe later, when she’s ready, I’d like that.”

“Ready?” asked Serena.

“Yes, she’s still getting over someone else. For now, we’re just friends,” said Emily.

“Friends with an option for more?” teased Nigel. “I didn’t know you played the long game, Emily.”

“Oh, stuff it, Nigel,” said Emily. “I like her, so I want to take my time. I’m not going to play with her feelings.”

“So, what are you going to do with your friend?” asked Serena, smiling.

Emily cocked her head. “She likes going book shopping,” she answered. “I thought we’d do that, then maybe go get some ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” said Nigel. “Now I know you must like this girl. No cheese cubes or green salad?”

“Oh, go on, Nigel, enough of that,” said Emily. “I just want her to have a nice time.”

“Well I think it’s sweet,” said Serena.

“Good for you,” grinned Andy. “You have fun.”

Emily nodded, smiling. A gentle warmth spread in her chest as she thought about Saturday. And Nicole.

* * *

 Emily sat on her bed, the apartment quiet. The only sound the ticking of her alarm clock and the occasional car passing by on the street below. She looked at her laptop, pulling up the pictures folder. She scrolled through one folder in particular.

Pictures of her, and Nicole. Shopping, having lunch, goofing around at her apartment.

She touched the screen, her fingertips gently gliding over the picture of her friend.

_The woman she was falling for._

Her long, wavy red hair, her emerald green eyes. Her radiant smile. The smile that made her face light up and her eyes crinkle. Her lips… those lips Emily wanted to kiss so badly.

_Fuck. She probably doesn’t think even about me that way. I’m just a friend. She’s still hung up on Andy._

_What a mess. Andy wants Miranda, Nicole wants Andy, and I want Nicole. Way to soap opera everything._

Emily shook her head. “I can’t even talk to anyone about it, since Nigel is helping Andy. And Serena, well, that’d be uncomfortable. Talking to my old crush about my new one. What am I, fucking twelve?”

Emily looked back at the picture on the screen.

_I have to do something. Not like last time, with Serena. Waiting forever, just to get shot down. Or like Andy, pining away and hiding her feelings, wanting Miranda the whole time._

Emily had a sudden urge for cheese, no, a whole bloody cheese pizza.

_Not good. This is just making me crazy. I should just get it over with and brace myself for the letdown. At least Nicole will probably be kind about it. I just hope she doesn’t do the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ thing, though._

“Arggh,” Emily rumbled, tearing at her hair. “I just have to strap on the big girl panties and tell her already. Hiding it is just so annoying.”

She reached down to the floor, retrieving her glass of wine. She sipped the Pinot Noir, studying the photo.

“I don’t want to let this go,” she said, softly. “I want to try, even if I get shot down again."

Thoughts flitted through her mind as her eyes caressed the picture. "She just makes me feel so…”

_Happy, excited, nervous..._

_I’ve only known her for a little while, and I’m already falling in love with her._

Emily laughed. “I guess this is what happens when you’re in orbit around Andy Sachs and Miranda Priestly. Drama just comes with the territory.”

 

 


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date in the park with Miranda.

It was a clear, warm Saturday morning. Andy checked her watch. The dial read 11:30 am. She watched kids and parents launch boats at the Conservatory pond. The sails of the little craft puffed out in the light breeze. A Gray Mercedes sedan stopped on 5th Avenue, nearby. Miranda stepped out, a folded blue blanket in one arms, and a basket in the other.

Andy walked over to Miranda, taking the basket. Andy lead Miranda to a grassy area on the far side of the pond. “I hope this is okay for you,” she said to Miranda.

Miranda smiled, spreading the blanket on the ground. “Yes, this is lovely,” she replied. “I made a few things at home we could share.”

Andy pulled a rectangular box from her bag. “I got this downtown at this neat little chocolate shop,” Andy said. “Strawberries covered in different kinds of chocolate. They look really good.”

Miranda knelt down on the blanket, arranging her skirt over her legs. She opened the basket, retrieving some items wrapped in butcher paper, and a Tupperware bowl. She then removed two bottles of Pellegrino and some glasses. Some picnicware followed.

“Just some light and simple things,” said Miranda. “Some sandwiches. Two are chicken salad, and the other two are BLT’s. I wasn’t sure which you would prefer.”

“Both sound great,” answered Andy.

“In the bowl there’s a spinach salad with tomato and mozzarella," said Miranda. "The dressing in the cruet is a balsamic vinaigrette.”

“You made all this?” asked Andy.

“I do like to cook from time to time, even when Cara is available,” answered Miranda.

“I can’t wait,” said Andy. “It all sounds wonderful. I have to admit, I’m a little bit hungry, too.”

“Good,” said Miranda. “I just wanted to make something simple, not fussy. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Andy looked at the food, her mouth watering. “Hmm, I think I’ll have the bacon, lettuce and tomato first,” said Andy. “I’d also like some of the salad.”

“Of course,” smiled Miranda. She passed a sandwich and some salad to Andy. Their fingers brushed as she passed the food. Their eyes locked. Miranda’s fingers played over Andy’s. “I hope you enjoy it,” Miranda said.

“I’m sure I will, but I’m more grateful for the company,” flirted Andy.

“I agree,” said Miranda. “A meal is only as good as the company you share it with.”

Andy and Miranda finished their meal, and watched the boats sailing on the pond. Miranda turned to Andy. “Thank you for a lovely time,” she said. “Would you like to come to the townhouse for a drink?”

Andy pondered the question, her heart racing. “Yes,” she answered. “I think I would.” Packing up the picnic basket and blanket, Miranda led Andy across Fifth Avenue and down the street to her townhouse.

Opening the door, Miranda led Andy upstairs to her study. “Scotch alright?” asked Miranda.

Andy nodded. “That’d be great,” she said. She accepted a glass with two fingers of Glenlivet.

Miranda turned the stereo on, Diana Krall playing quietly in the background. She sat down on a cream-colored love seat, inviting Andy to join her. They sipped their drinks, enjoying the smoky taste as it settled on their tongues.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself today,” said Miranda. “I’ve been trying hard to show you that I’m serious about this. Serious about us.”

“I appreciate the effort Miranda,” replied Andy. “I know you’ve not used to revealing your private life to others. I understand being out in public is a big change.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Miranda. “Who cares what people say?”

“But you’re used to being very private,” answered Andy.

“I’ve decided what I want is more important than what people think of me,” Miranda said. “I’m lucky to have you in my life, and I don’t care if people question it.”

“I feel the same way,” replied Andy. “It doesn’t matter to me if my friends or family don’t understand. Because I know that this where I want to be. By your side.”

Miranda turned to Andy. Her hands raised to the brunettes’ face, gently cupping her face. She leaned in, kissing her. Andy’s arms settled around Miranda’s waist, pulling her close. Miranda hung from Andy’s neck, sighing as the younger woman tightened her embrace. “This is what I wanted, so much,” she murmured.

Andy smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve dreamed of this too, for so long,” she said.

 


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily begins to court Nicole.

Emily walked into the Strand bookstore, on Broadway and 12th Street, with Nicole tagging along behind her. “Well, you like books, Nicole,” Emily said. “Like they say, there’s 18 miles of books here. What do want to look for first?”

Nicole paused, thinking. “I’d like to look in the poetry section first, if you don’t mind,” she said.

“Sure, that sounds good,” Emily replied. They walked down the aisle, heading towards a sign emblazoned with the word “Poetry”.

“What kind of poetry do you like?” asked Nicole.

“Oh, a little bit of everything. A lot of the classics, you know,” said Emily. “Dylan Thomas, Sylvia Plath, but my favorite is Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

“Those are all good,” hummed Nicole. “What do you like?” asked Emily.

“Oh, like you, a lot of different things,” said Nicole. “Robert Frost, Adrienne Rich, Anne Sexton, anything that speaks to me, you know?”

“I know what we’ll do,” said Nicole. “I’ll find something for you to read, and then you find something for me. We can read some of the poetry later, maybe get a good bottle of wine to sample while we do.”

Emily smiled. “That sounds like fun,” she said. “Let’s go for it.” The pair split up, searching the stacks. They poured through volumes of poetry, hardcover and paperback, searching for something they thought the other would like. Sharing smiles and laughter as they riffled through pages, some crisp and white, some yellowed and faded.

Nicole searched high on the shelves, teetering on a ladder. One foot slipped. She wavered on the edge. Emily threw herself forward, catching the other woman, her fingers tingling on Nicole’s waist. They looked shared a look, smiling, their eyes lingering on each other.

Finally, they returned to one another, bearing a single book each. They took their prizes to the cashier, paying.“Here,” said Emily, handing a hardcover to Nicole.

Nicole took the book, The Complete Poems of Elizabeth Bishop. “Thank you,” she said. “It’ll be fun to read this and try something new.”

Nicole handed her choice to Emily, Love, Death, and the Changing of the Seasons . “It’s by Marilyn Hacker,” she said. “Some of the poems are a little edgy, I thought you might like that.”

Emily smiled, taking the book, blushing as her hands brushed against Nicole’s. “I’m sure I’ll love it,” she said. Taking their purchases, they headed outside, walking to the sidewalk to hail a cab.

At the South Street Seaport, Emily halted the cab. Opening the door for Nicole, she led her to a small ice cream shop by the waterfront. Seating Nicole at a table, Emily motioned for a server. A young brunette came to them, smiling. “How can I help you ladies?” the woman asked.

“Could we get a couple of cones, please?” asked Emily.  “What would you like Nicole?”

“I’d like the pistachio flavor,” said Nicole.

“I’ll take the fresh strawberry flavor, please,” said Emily.

The server nodded, writing the order down, heading towards the counter.

“This is nice,” said Nicole. “I’m glad we’re getting to spend the day together like this.”

“Me too,” answered Emily, her blue eyes sparkling. “It’s relaxing down here. I’m glad I can share it with you.” The server returned with the ice cream.

Emily paid her and turned to Nicole. “Would you like to sit here or take a little walk with these?”

“A walk along the waterfront seems like a nice idea,” answered Nicole. “Let’s do that.”

Emily smiled, walking towards the water. She looked out over the harbor, enjoying the breeze playing through her hair. She leaned against the railing overlooking the water, licking her ice cream cone.

Nicole stood next to her, her face flushed and happy. Emily bumped her with her shoulder, chuckling. Nicole laughed. They stood, looking out over the water, enjoying their ice cream. Emily threw the last bit of hers to the waiting seagulls. Nicole did the same. She stood beside Emily, leaning lightly against the other woman. Emily slowly reached out, taking Nicole’s hand in hers. Nicole gently squeezed Emily’s hand in response, her lips curving in a smile.

 

 

 


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda invites Andy to New York Fashion Week.

Miranda walked through the door of Maybourne publishing. She greeted the pretty redhead at the desk. “Good morning, Nicole,” she said. “May I see Andrea for a moment, please, if it isn’t too much bother?”

Nicole looked at Miranda, taking in her appearance. Black True Religion jeans and matching Louboutin ankle boots. A white silk Donna Karan blouse to complete the outfit. Miranda carried two garment bags slung over one shoulder.

“Of course, Miranda,” said Nicole. She picked up her phone, buzzing Andy. “Andy, you have a visitor. Ms. Priestly is here to see you.”

Andy came to the front. “Miranda,” she said. “This is a surprise. Would you like to come to my office?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” answered Miranda. “I wondered if I could ask you something.” They walked down the hallway to Andy’s room. Miranda looked around the office, smiling at the pictures of friends and family that adorned the walls, including herself and her daughters. “I like it,” she commented, pulling Andy into a hug.

“Excuse me for asking,” said Andy. “But why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at Runway?”

“I suppose,” smirked Miranda. “But I just couldn’t wait, especially after Nigel showed me these.”

She unzipped the garment bags. A red silk evening gown, and a black lace cocktail dress.  “They’re both Valentino. And they’d be perfect on you,” Miranda said.

“Why did you bring these?” asked Andy. “Because I want to ask you to be my date. For New York Fashion week,” she said. “I want you to be with me at the show, and the party Runway is hosting.”

“Really?” asked Andy. “The press is going to be everywhere. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Miranda. “I’m not embarrassed to be with you,” she said. “Page Six can take all the pictures they want, I might even put on a show for them,” she smirked.

“Only if I get to help,” grinned Andy.

“I thought the gown would be perfect for the show, and the cocktail dress would be lovely for the party,” said Miranda. “But if you want something else, just tell Nigel, and he’ll get whatever you want.”

“No, these are beautiful,” said Andy. “Thank you.” She kissed Miranda lightly.

“Good, I hoped you’d like them, you know how I love Valentino,” Miranda said, pulling Andy close. “You’ll look so beautiful in these.”

“I can’t wait to see what you’ll be wearing,” said Andy.

“You’ll just have to wait,” said Miranda. “I want to surprise you.”

“The show is in two weeks, isn’t it?” asked Andy.

“Yes,” Miranda said. “So, I’m going to be very busy before then. So, I was thinking…”

“About what?” asked Andy.

“If you could come over the townhouse more often. Maybe have Sunday dinners with me, Caroline and Cassidy,” Miranda said. “They like you, and I don’t want to wait two weeks before I see you again.”

“Of course,” said Andy. “I’d love to do that.”

Miranda beamed. “Good, I promise I’ll make something you’ll love for dinner,” she said. “Maybe you can help me fix it with the girls.”

“That’d be great,” said Andy, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

“Now, I have a question?” smirked Andy. “What are you going to be wearing to Fashion Week?

“Nice try. You’ll just have to wait and see,” chuckled Miranda. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“No fair,” pouted Andy. “You know what I’ll be wearing.”

“I’ve heard that anticipation heightens… enjoyment,” Miranda purred.

Andy flushed, ducking her head. “That’s even more unfair,” the brunette grumbled.

Miranda smiled, kissing Andy on the cheek. “Believe me, I can’t wait to show you, but I want to make the night special,” she said. “So please, let me have my secret?”

“Oh, fine,” said Andy, huffing. “But no dancing with Irv at this thing, or anyone else. I want you all to myself.”

“As you wish,” winked Miranda. “Besides, I want everyone to be terribly jealous of my beautiful date.”


	21. Twenty one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up with Emily and Nicole.

The phone rang in Emily’s apartment. Rushing from the bedroom, she picked it up off the kitchen counter. “Hello,” she said.

Nicole’s voice answered her. “Do you think you could help me with supper today?” she asked. “I’d like to go shopping and pick up a few things.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” answered Emily. “I’d like that very much.”

“Good,” answered Nicole. “There’s a greenmarket, not far from my place, where we can get the food. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” said Emily. “I’ll be there in a little while.” Hanging up the phone, Emily grabbed her purse and keys. Locking the door to her apartment, she went downstairs, headed towards the subway. A smile lit her face as she hurried on her way.

Nicole stood, waiting outside her apartment building, a smile on her face. “You ready?” she asked.

“Yes,” answered Emily. “Let’s do this.” They walked down the street until they found the greenmarket, near Water Street.

“We need to get some veggies, some cheese, some bread, and some other things, okay?” asked Nicole.

“Sounds good,” answered Emily, smiling. “Show me where we need to go,” she said. Nicole took her hand, leading Emily into the market.

Nicole lead Emily through the market, stopping at stalls to buy items for supper. Cheese, olives, and fruit. Green, fragrant basil and red, ripe tomatoes. Two bottles of French rosé and a crunchy baguette. They walked around the marketplace, exploring the stalls, looking at all the foods and other items for sale.

Emily stopped at on table. Sweets from a small local baker. Winking at Nicole, she bought two dark chocolate brownies laced with almonds. “Can’t forget the best part of the meal,” she said. “Dessert’s the most important food group.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Nicole.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” grinned Emily. “Especially when it comes to chocolate.” Smiling, Emily took Nicole’s hand in hers, as they headed back to the apartment.

Emily busied herself in Nicole’s kitchen, helping her to prepare a light supper. Nicole opened a bottle of the rosé wine, popping the cork free from the bottle. Emily sliced cheddar and Jarlsberg cheese into chunks, arraying them on a plate studded with grapes and olives. Nicole poured the wine into a pair of glasses. She handed one to Emily. “Thank you,” Nicole said. “I’m glad we were able to do this today. It was fun.”

Emily looked at Nicole, taking a sip of her wine. “I had fun, too,” she said. “I always do, with you.”

Nicole blushed, taking a bite of cheese as she turned away, hiding her embarrassment. “Same here,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Could you make the salads?” asked Emily.

“Sure. I figured we could just do a caprese salad,” Nicole said. “I’ve got heirloom tomatoes, fresh basil and some mozzarella.”

“That sounds delicious,” grinned Emily. “That, the snacks and the wine should be all we need.”

Nicole grabbed the vegetables and mozzarella and started making the salads. She sliced the tomatoes, added the basil and placed the cheese on top. She drizzled each with some extra virgin olive oil and some balsamic vinegar. “Looks good,” said Emily. “I’ll set the table while you finish up.”

Nicole plated the food while Emily placed a blue table tablecloth on the table and set out the silverware. Nicole brought the food to the table.

“Thanks,” said Emily, accepting a plate of salad. She added some pieces of cheese and grapes to her dish.

“More wine?” asked Nicole.

“Please,” said Emily, accepting a refill of the rosé. They ate, as soft jazz played in the background. “This is like the best date ever,” Emily muttered to herself.

“Date?” answered Nicole, hearing her. “Is that what this is?”

“Uh, yeah?” replied Emily, her voice weak. “Or not, if… if you don’t want it to be?” She blushed heavily, ducking her head as Nicole studied her.

“Maybe… maybe I want it to be,” said Nicole, softly.

Emily looked up, meeting Nicole’s eyes, shocked. “That’s… that’s good,” she stammered. “I mean I’m glad, I’m happy.”

Nicole smiled, leaning over to touch Emily’s cheek. “So am I,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I was so happy when you called. When you wanted to spend time with me today,” Emily said. “You know what the best part was?”

“What was that?” asked Nicole.

“Just being with you. Walking beside you, holding your hand, seeing the smile on your face,” Emily said. “I loved it.”

Emily and Nicole cleaned the dishes from supper. Hand washing and drying them together. Nicole stacked the last plate, putting it away. They moved to the living room couch, resting as they listened to music. “Thank you,” said Emily. “Everything was wonderful.”

Nicole nodded. “Yes, it was,” she said.

Emily leaned towards Nicole, meeting her eyes. Basking in their warmth.“I really want to kiss you now,” she said.

Nicole smiled. Emily leaned closer, gently touching her lips to Nicole’s. She let out a deep breath.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” she said. She put her arms around Nicole, holding her tenderly, a bright smile on her face.

“Good,” replied Nicole, her cheeks pink. “Can I have another?”

“Oh, yes,” Emily answered. “Although I might not be able to stop.”

“Who said I wanted you to?” answered Nicole, smirking.


	22. Twenty two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Andy attend Fashion Week together.

Andy stepped out of Miranda’s town car, entering the Fashion Week exhibit at Washington Square Park. Valentino was showing. Andy watched as the models walked, she smiled as she saw a black and silver sequined minidress, liking the design and the amount of leg it showed.

Miranda would love it if I wore that, she thought. She also eyed a red chiffon evening gown.

Very pretty, she thought. I bet Nicole would look lovely in that.

Miranda swept up, Emily in tow. “Andrea,” she said. “Are you enjoying the show?”

“Yes,” Andy replied. “I think I see a few things I’d like to model for a special someone,” she smirked.

Miranda raised an eyebrow elegantly. “Really,” she said. “Well, I’m sure they’d love a… private showing. I can imagine how lovely you’d look, with your hair down. Perhaps wearing one these new cocktail dresses?”

“That does sound perfect, doesn’t it?” said Andy. “I wonder how appreciative they’d be?”

“Very much so,” Miranda rumbled, her eyes smoldering as she looked at Andy. “Although you look lovely in the gown you’re wearing now.”

Andy looked at Miranda. She wore a red satin Valentino gown, baring one shoulder. A bow at her right breast. Andy held her breath, transfixed by the older woman. She wanted to trail her lips down Miranda’s exposed skin. To untie the bow with her teeth and run her tongue over Miranda’s breasts.

_Down girl. Time enough for that later, hopefully._

“I can say the same for you Miranda,” Andy said. “You look absolutely… delicious in that gown.” Andy grinned as she saw Miranda blush.

 _God_ , _I_ _wish_ _we_ _could_ _cancel_ _the_ _show_ _and_ _party_ _and_ _go_ _back_ _to_ _Miranda’s_ _place_ , _or_ _the_ _nearest_ _hotel_.

Andy snatched a champagne glass from a passing server and gulped it down, the heat between her legs overwhelming.

_I have to get out of here. This is killing me._

Emily took Andrea’s glass, cocking an eyebrow at her. She wore a Westwood gown in deep blue.

“Andrea, we’re going to the Runway party soon,” she said. “We’ve booked rooms at the Carlyle Hotel, where the party is. You can change into your other dress there.

“Sounds good,” Andy said.

Miranda turned to Andy. “Andrea, Roy is waiting for us, come with me.” She led Andy down the walk to the curb. Roy stood outside a silver Mercedes sedan, waiting. He opened the passenger door, allowing Miranda and Andy to enter the vehicle. Miranda looked at Andy, then touched a button the beside her, raising the privacy screen. Beyond the barrier, Roy started the car. It pulled out into traffic.

Miranda eyed Andy hungrily, pulling her into a searing kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do that all afternoon,” she said.

“Me too,” replied Andy, feverishly pressing her lips to Miranda’s throat. “God, I wanted to tear that dress off you.”

“Oh really?” smirked Miranda. “Poor Valentino would’ve been crushed that you destroyed his beautiful dress. Though I think it would’ve died a noble death.”

Andy chuckled, kissing Miranda. “As pretty as the dress is, I think you’d be much more beautiful out of it,” she husked.

“Well, I can’t wait to see you in that black lace cocktail dress,” grinned Miranda. “Your legs will look fabulous in it.”

“I’m still wondering what little surprise you’re going to wear,” replied Andy.

“You’ll just have to wait,” said Miranda, arching an eyebrow. “You know what they say about she who waits, correct?”

“Will I get good things?” asked Andy, smiling.

“Very good things,” purred Miranda.

The car pulled to a halt on East 76th Street, in front of the Carlyle Hotel. Miranda and Andy quickly touched up their lipstick as Roy walked around the car to open the passenger door. He held the door wide as Miranda and Andy exited the vehicle. Entering the hotel, they were met by Emily, who passed them the key to their suite. Taking the elevator to their floor, Miranda opened the door to the suite.

Two garment bags lay on the bed. New undergarments, stockings and shoes beside each bag. A makeup kit nearby. “Andrea, you change,” said Miranda. “I’ll go after you.”

Andy took her cocktail dress out of the garment bag. She took her clothing into the nearby bathroom, quickly freshening up. Andy changed into a black lace La Perla bra and panty set, then rolled on a set of sheer nude stockings.

Andy put on the dress, admiring it. A black camellia lace top descended to a ruffled ebon skirt with tiny white polka dots. Andy slipped on her shoes, a pair of black Prada stiletto heels that elongated her legs. Quickly fixing her makeup, she stepped out into the suite.

Miranda stared at her. Her eyes widening as a flush of pink suffused her face. “Andrea, you look beautiful,” she said. She stepped forward, her hands falling to Andy’s waist. “So beautiful.” Miranda pulled Andy close, ghosting her lips over Andy’s throat.

 “Do I get to see you now?” Andy asked, nodding at Miranda’s garment bag.

Miranda smiled. “Just a minute,” she said, grabbing her clothing from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Andy busied herself, brushing out her hair as she waited for Miranda. The click of the bathroom door opening made her turn around.

Miranda appeared in the doorway. Wearing a white Valentino mini dress, a splash of silver sequins scattered across its breast. Sheer white stockings on her legs. A pair of white Louboutin pumps on her feet.

A pang of heat flashed through Andy’s belly as she gazed at Miranda. “Gorgeous,” she whispered. “You take my breath away.”

Miranda smirked at Andy. “It seems you approve,” she said. “I’m glad.” She took Andy’s hand. “Well, shall we? I believe we have an entrance to make, downstairs.”

“What a waste of a perfectly good bedroom suite,” replied Andy. “Yes, a pity, that,” said Miranda, grinning.

Miranda and Andy went downstairs to Café Carlyle. A jazz pianist played “Like Someone In Love” quietly in the corner. Miranda led Andy to a small mini bar set up nearby.

A bartender approached. “What would you like Ms. Priestly?” she asked. “Vodka martini, straight up, with a twist of lemon,” Miranda answered. “Wouldn’t want to spill dark liquor on this dress,” she said, quirking an eye at Andy.

“I’ll have the same, please,” Andy said to the bartender.

“Would you like something to eat?” Miranda asked Andy. “No, I wouldn’t want to accidentally stain the dress,” Andy replied. “I’ll probably just grab something on the way home.”

“I usually don’t eat at these things,” said Miranda. “The girls were going to order pizza at home tonight. Perhaps I’ll steal some of the leftovers later.” She smiled at Andy.

“Carbs, Miranda?” said Andy. “Shocking.” “Even I enjoy pepperoni and cheese, Andrea,” smirked Miranda.

Andy’s eyes drifted to across the room. A few couples danced near the pianist. One caught Andy’s attention.

Two redheads, close together. Emily and Nicole. Emily in a red Westwood cocktail dress. Nicole in a black Donna Karan. Emily’s arms wrapped around Nicole’s waist, a dreamy expression on her face. Nicole smiling at Emily, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Interesting,” drawled Miranda, looking at the couple. “That’s new.”

“They look happy, though,” said Andy. “I’m glad.”

“Tim’s daughter cleans up rather well, she could be a model,” Miranda chuckled.

“Don’t let her hear you say that, she’d be horrified,” snarked Andy.

“Well, she must be something special,” said Miranda. “I’ve never seen Emily smile so much.”

“Yeah,” said Andy, a pensive look on her face. “She is.”

“Something wrong?” asked Miranda, peering at Andy.

“No, something right, something definitely right,” Andy said. “They deserve each other.”

“Come on,” said Miranda, grabbing Andy’s hand. Leading her to the dance floor.

She turned to Andy, drawing her close, hands on her hips. The pianist playing “Come Away with Me” in the background. They swayed together, Andy’s eyes locked with Miranda’s. A look of longing, of gentle ardor, on the younger woman’s face.

“You make me so happy,” Andy whispered.

A thrill ran through Miranda as she gazed into Andy’s eyes. Seeing the love, the trust in them. Feeling the same emotions bubbling in her chest.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being here. For being with me. It means everything to me, Andrea. Everything.” She leaned in towards the brunette, lightly kissing her lips. Andy leaned into the kiss, her face glowing with joy.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Twenty three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda visits Andy's apartment.

Andy sat in her bedroom of her apartment, reading. Yesterday evening had been wonderful. Her date with Miranda at the Runway party had been perfect.

_I feel a little bit like Cinderella, after the ball. Too bad the queen didn’t take me home._

An open copy of Runway lay before her. She sat, staring at the editorial page. Miranda’s picture in black and white, before her eyes. Andy looked at the picture, her mind full of the woman behind the image. Strong, commanding, tender, passionate. A study in contrasts. And everything Andy had yearned for, for so many months. Even before Paris. For so long she’d desired Miranda. Ached to worship her, adore her.

Andy chuckled. She still did. Still wanted to give everything she was to the enigmatic woman. Her soul, her mind, her body. Especially her body.

Andy groaned _._

_God, I want her so much._

Her fingers strayed downward between her legs, feeling the heat pulsing there.

_I want her to touch me, to take me, and never leave me again. I love her and want to belong to her, so very much._

Her phone buzzed by the bed, vibrating. Andy picked it up, answering. Miranda’s voice responded. “Darling, are you awake?” she said. “Yes,” she answered. “Can I come up?” Miranda asked. “Yes,” breathed Andy. “Please.”

Andy sat up from the bed, clad in black La Perla boy shorts and a matching bra. She shrugged a blue silk robe over her shoulders and walked to the door. Andy buzzed Miranda in. She waited by the door, impatient.

A quiet knock at the door. Andy opened it. Miranda stood before her, her face tired. A white silk blouse and black Versace pencil skirt adorned her, paired with black Louboutin heels.

She smiled, entering the apartment, pulling Andy flush against her. “I couldn’t stay away,” she said. “All day long I was thinking of you. It’s been so busy lately, we’ve barely had time to meet.” “I know,” nodded Andy. “But it’s alright, I know you have a lot going on now.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” said Miranda. “It’s just… I miss you, more and more, each time that we’re apart.” “Me too,” replied Andy. “I think about you and all I want is to be where you are. In your arms, no matter where that might be.”

Miranda smiled. She lifted a hand to Andy’s cheek, gently tracing it with her fingertips. “That’s where I want to be, too,” she said. “Even if Runway closed its doors tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter. Because, other than my girls, all I really need is you.” “You do?” asked Andy. “I do,” answered Miranda. She kissed Andy, lightly.

“Would you like something?” said Andy. “A drink, something to…” Miranda stopped Andy, her hands combing through Andy’s hair as she kissed her again. “You,” she said. “You’re what I want.”

Andy smiled crookedly at Miranda, her hair tousled, her breath catching at the look on Miranda’s face. “You have me,” she said. “Always.”

Miranda pulled her close, relishing the feel of the other woman in her arms. The tangerine scent of her dark hair, the warm crush of her breasts. The gentle beat of Andy’s heart against her own.

Andy looked in Miranda’s eyes, making a decision. “Come with me,” whispered Andy. “Come to bed.” She took Miranda’s hand, squeezing it lightly, as she guided her towards the bedroom. The bedroom was lit by a small reading lamp near the bed, casting shadows over the walls. The walls a light blue, almost white in hue. A few scattered prints of Georgia O’Keefe and Ansel Adams on the walls.

“Let me take care of you,” Andy said, her eyes warm. She plucked at the buttons of Miranda’s blouse, opening it, pulling the tails free from Miranda’s skirt. She removed the garment, pressing a quick kiss to Miranda’s cheek.

Andy’s fingers caressed Miranda’s shoulders as she smiled, drinking in the sight of her love. Her hands descended, reaching the zipper at the back of Miranda’s skirt, sliding it down, allowing it to fall to the floor.

Andy hummed in appreciation as she gazed at Miranda. Clad in sheer a white Agent Provocateur bra and panty set, her skin glowing in the amber lamplight. Andy reached for Miranda, breathless. She moistened her lips as her hands trembled against the other woman’s skin.

Miranda’s hands fumbled at the belt of Andy’s robe. She opened it, pushing the silk over Andy’s shoulders as it whispered to the floor. Miranda’s eyes widened as she gazed on the black lace La Perla covering Andy. “Oh, God,” she whispered.

Andy took her hand, leading her to the bed. She sat on the mattress beside Miranda. Her eyes searched the editor’s, “Are you okay with this?” she asked. “Yes,” replied Miranda. “I want this, I want you.”

Andy kissed Miranda gently. She took Miranda’s hands, placing them on her breasts. “There’s nothing you can do wrong here,” she said. “I’m yours. Just tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

Miranda removed the sheer bra from Andy, dropping it to the floor. Her fingers gently caressing Andy’s breasts. “So beautiful,” she murmured. Andy reciprocated, stripping Miranda’s bra off.

Miranda’s hands descended to Andy’s black lace boy shorts. She slowly pulled them down Andy’s legs, her face flushing as she caught Andy’s eyes. She brought her fingers down to Miranda’s sheer panties, gently sliding them off, a sweet smile on her face.

Andy leaned in to Miranda, cupping her cheek, gently kissing her. “I want to make you happy,” she said. Miranda gazed at Andy, a mist of tears gathering in her eyes. “You do,” she replied.

Andy pulled Miranda to the mattress, kissing her. Her arms winding around the older woman. Feeling her warmth, the soft crush of Miranda’s breasts against her own. “Is it okay of I touch you?” she asked. “Yes, please, I want you to,” said Miranda.

Andy ran her hand through Miranda’s hair, marveling in its silky texture. Her fingertips trailed down, tracing Miranda’s face. Running them over her cheeks, stroking her soft lips. Her hand lowered, teasing down her neck, then caressing her breasts. Circling her fingers over Miranda’s nipples until they peaked.

Andy’s fingers moved lower still, ghosting over Miranda’s belly. She smirked as Miranda reacted to the light touch.

_Ticklish, hmm?_

Her fingers traveled lower, brushing through the silky hair between Miranda’s legs. She paused there, hearing her lover’s breath catch. Feeling Miranda’s wet heat coating her fingers.

 “Andrea…” Miranda said. Her voice low, trembling with want.

Andy slid her fingers through Miranda’s slick folds. “What do you want, my love?” Andy said quietly.  “You,” Miranda murmured. “Inside, please.”

Andy gently slid one finger into Miranda, moving it back and forth. “More,” Miranda said, her breath becoming short. Andy added another finger, increasing her tempo, fingertips curling inside. Miranda responded, rocking against Andy’s hand.

Andy trailed her lips down Miranda’s body, groaning at the scent of Miranda’s arousal. She spread Miranda’s legs, licking up and down the pink flesh exposed. Pausing to plunge her tongue into Miranda’s core. “So good,” breathed Andy. “Love you so much.”

Miranda’s fingers curled in Andy’s hair, her hips rolling as the brunette made love to her. Andy’s mouth found Miranda’s clit, her tongue swirling as her lips closed around it. Her fingers entered Miranda. Moving in tandem with her tongue.

Andy looked up. Her eyes met Miranda’s. “Don’t look away,” Andy whispered, her eyes dark with passion. “Come for me, Miranda.” She pushed her thumb against Miranda’s clit as her fingers continued to thrust.

Miranda’s eyes locked with Andy’s, her mouth wide, shuddering as she came undone. “Andrea,” she gasped. “Oh, Andrea.” Andy climbed up Miranda’s body, kissing her deeply. Miranda moaned, tasting herself on Andy’s lips.

Miranda lay against Andy, recovering. Reveling in the warmth of her love’s embrace. A wicked smile crossed her face. “My turn,” she said. She pushed Andy onto her back, scattering kisses across Andy’s throat and breasts.

Miranda reached down, her touch gentle. “You’re so wet for me,” she whispered. Her touch light,  fingertips circling Andy’s entrance. She entered Andy with one finger, her mouth still playing on the brunette’s breasts. “More,” Andy gasped, spreading her legs wider. Miranda grinned, adding a second finger, increasing the pace of her thrusts. A third followed.

“Please, Miranda,” Andy breathed. “Please?” asked Miranda, smirking. “Make me cum, please,” she said.

Miranda took in the sight of her lover. Brown hair wild, wonderfully disheveled. Her skin slick with sweat. Panting, each breath ragged, grinding against Miranda’s soaked fingers.

“Beautiful…” Miranda whispered.

Miranda moved down Andy’s body, parting her legs. She ran her tongue over Andy’s glistening sex, probing deeply. “I love you,” she husked, breathing into Andy’s skin.

Miranda’s lips sucked Andy’s engorged clit into her mouth, her tongue spiraling over the sensitive bundle of nerves. She felt Andy’s orgasm approach as the brunette rocked against her mouth.

Andy roared out her climax. “Miranda!” she cried, her body jerking and trembling.

Miranda crawled up over the sheets, pressing a gentle kiss to Andy’s lips. The younger woman lay exhausted beside her, eyes heavy. Miranda pulled a blanket over them. She smiled, leaning against her love. Her arms curled around the brunette as they lay together, skin to skin, and fell asleep.

* * *

Miranda woke up, her eyes opening drowsily. Andy stood by the bed, a gentle smile on her face, clad in a blue silk robe. “Hey sleepyhead,” the brunette greeted. Why don’t you shower while I make the bed?

Miranda smiled gratefully, walking to the small bathroom off Andy’s bedroom. Stepping into the shower, she borrowed Andy’s body wash, cleaning up. She brushed her teeth and hair. A green satin robe and some new panties were set out on the vanity.  Miranda changed, tying the robe around herself. She stepped out of the bathroom. Andy sat at the edge of the bed, patting a spot next to her. Miranda joined her, smiling.

“I was waiting for you to wake up, watching you sleep,” Andy said. “You looked so beautiful, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” Miranda blushed, lowering her eyes. “You’re the one who’s beautiful, Andrea. In every way,” she said.

Andy shook her head. “You can’t see it, can you? How beautiful you are,” she said. “Your eyes, your skin, the way you move.” Andy smiled, shyly. “Each time our eyes meet, every time you touch me makes my heart pound, makes me want you more and more. And that’s just you on the outside. There’s so much more beneath the surface, so much more. And I’ve fallen deeper and deeper in love with the woman I found there.”

“I realized it in Paris, how I felt,” Andy said. “I saw you, crying on the couch, wrapped in that gray robe. Desperate to keep your children from being hurt. Brokenhearted, betrayed by a man who didn’t deserve you.”

Andy looked at Miranda, her eyes shining. “I love you, Miranda. I love you,” And said. “And I never want to be parted from you again. Ever.”

Miranda raised her head, tears running from her eyes. “I love you, Andrea,” she said. “More than I’ll probably ever have the words to say.” She paused, sniffling. “I’m not good at it, saying how I feel. But with you I want to. I want to find the words to say.”

Miranda shook her head. “With you, I dream of so many things,” she said. “Home, family, children… a future. I want to wake up each morning and end each day with you in my arms, with your heart beating next to mine. Because you make my life better. You make me better.”

“Miranda…” said Andy, her eyes full of quiet joy.

Miranda sighed. “Out there, in the world, things will be different,” she cautioned. “They’ll try to tear us down. Make a joke out of us. And I know I’m not the easiest person to live with.”

Andy took Miranda’s hands. “I know there’ll be problems,” said Andy. “I know people will be cruel. But I don’t care. Because I know at the end of each day I’ll be beside you. Holding you. Loving you. And you’ll do the same for me.”

“Yes,” said Miranda, taking Andy’s hand. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here. To realize what you meant to me,” said Miranda. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Yes, you hurt me,” said Andy. “But that road brought us to here. To now. To **us**. And I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

“Us?” said Miranda.

“Yes, us,” said Andy. “Me and you. You and me. Together. Always.”

Miranda smiled, as she pulled Andrea into her arms.

They kissed, as the morning sun turned the tiny apartment gold.

Their tableau not an end to the story, but a beginning.

 


End file.
